


Royal Treatment

by Demenior



Series: Prince and Lionheart [3]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Bottom Shiro (Voltron), Friends With Benefits, M/M, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Shiro (Voltron) Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Shiro (Voltron)-centric, WreckShiro2k18
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-25
Updated: 2019-01-23
Packaged: 2019-03-23 23:22:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 24,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13798509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Demenior/pseuds/Demenior
Summary: “As for the call— I’m afraid I have to get going again quickly, but I was hoping our schedules could overlap. I’m going to be spending some time in a private home, and I am short a precious concubine to keep me satisfied.”“So this isn’t a business call,” Shiro concludes.Rahjim laughs, “Of course it is. I require your services, Shiro! Can you afford to be away?”--Shiro's invited to spend a week vacationing with Prince Rahjim. The catch: he has to enjoy himself.It shouldn't be too hard, especially when he's getting the royal treatment.[Written for Shiro's Fuckation Week 2018]





	1. Day 1: Warm Up

**Author's Note:**

> HAPPY 1 YEAR ANNIVERSARY TO ROYALLY SCREWED AND PRINCE RAHJIM!!!
> 
> This is a standalone piece, but does heavily rely on and reference the first story (Royally Screwed) to feature Prince Rahjim. If you're new to Rahjim, all you need to know is that he and Shiro had a one night stand (which is covered in Royally Screwed). You are missing out on the nuances of their relationship- especially in why they're saying 'i love you' to one another, even though they're just long-distance fuckbuddies. But if you're new all you need to know is they really like each other, but are just FWB after a fun one night stand that kicked off Shiro waking up his libido.
> 
> I promise just as many emotions, comfort, sex and really corny jokes as Royally Screwed. In fact, this story will cover Shiro and Rahjim undergoing a big shift in their relationship. 
> 
> It's a pleasure to get to write Rahjim and Shiro together again, and I hope you all have as much fun as I do in getting to join them on this excellent adventure!!
> 
> **heads up! Shiro and Rahjim trade some teasing nicknames, but they can be offensive to some people (whore, slut, etc). Know that neither of them mean any harm by them, and have nothing but respect for one another.

 

Shiro’s toweling off his hair when his personal line rings. He jumps to answer it, before he realizes he doesn’t have a shirt on and scrambles to find one. He just makes it to the seat at his desk in time to catch the call.

Who’s calling him? It’s too early for thoughts.

Shiro swipes his wet bangs back out of his eyes.

The screen lights up in front of him, and Shiro breaks into a smile.

“Good morning,” he greets.

Rahjim’s face flickers a moment as the connection wavers, so Shiro misses the start of his response, but the prince is smiling back at him.

“—morning for you? You must be very far away,” Rahjim says.

“Busy,” Shiro agrees, “you?”

Rahjim groans, “So busy. Too busy. That’s why I’m calling.”

Oh, it’s a business call. Shiro sits up a little straighter. He tries not to be disappointed.

“Is everything alright?” Shiro asks, “are you in danger?”

He’s ready to scramble the team and run for Rahjim’s coordinates. Rahjim doesn’t seem worried enough to be under threat, but maybe the Galra have discovered him? There could be a fleet making their way to him right now—

“Nothing like that,” Rahjim says, “just work. Lots of it. But I am due in for a vacation soon.”

“That sounds nice,” Shiro agrees, “not the work— um, you know. How can I help?”

Rahjim’s feed must have frozen because he’s staring at Shiro with a smile and not moving. Shiro sits back a moment to wait for the connection to buffer. They’re in a weird area that’s been causing havoc on the Castle, and even the Lions are grumpy about it. But the team has been causing a lot of chaos for the Galra lately, so they’re taking the chance to lay low and make their repairs.

Shiro props his chin on his hand and smiles back. He’s missed Rahjim. Life has been so busy he hasn’t had the chance to even make the time to call Rahjim to say hello. And, well, say a few other things. Like asking Rahjim to help him get off.

Rahjim blinks and Shiro furrows his brows.

“Are you staring at me?” he asks.

“I love your face,” Rahjim admits, “I keep getting distracted.”

Shiro rolls his eyes and has to bite his lip to keep himself from smiling. It doesn’t work.

“As for the call— I’m afraid I have to get going again quickly, but I was hoping our schedules could overlap. I’m going to be spending some time in a private home, and I am short a precious concubine to keep me satisfied.”

“So this isn’t a business call,” Shiro concludes.

Rahjim laughs, “Of course it is. I require your services, Shiro! Can you afford to be away?”

“I’d have to get permission from Allura,” Shiro says. Which is already reason enough not to go. Allura will know _exactly_ why Shiro would want time off to be with Rahjim, “and then it depends if we get any distress calls, and I’d have to take a cruiser to get to wherever you are. I’d have to set up training for the others, or they’d demand their own leave and we can’t all take a break. Not to mention what happens if I’m needed while I’m away—”

“Do you want to come?” Rahjim interjects.

“Yeah,” Shiro says quickly, “of course I do.”

“Then stop making excuses,” Rahjim says, “I’ll send you the dates and coordinates, and I hope I’ll see you there.”

Shiro sits back, feeling a little scolded. He’s not sure he likes it.

“Okay,” he says, simply because he doesn’t want to fight, “sure.”

“Love you,” Rahjim says as a goodbye.

Shiro nods, “Love you too,” he agrees.  
  


* * *

  
Almost two weeks to the day, Shiro finds himself guiding the spare cruiser down to the coordinates Rahjim had given him. It’s a blue planet, something that twists Shiro’s stomach in a way he thinks he likes. It’s covered with water, large land masses, and even has a moon. Well, it has three moons, but apparently they help to balance out the tides.

He’s on unofficial leave— which means he can be away until he’s called back, though he’d promised Allura he was only going to be there for the week. But if something comes up then Shiro has to return. It’s a fair deal.

He only barely escaped without having to tell the rest of the team exactly why he wanted to take a vacation to visit Rahjim. But the team was mostly agreeable— Hunk and Pidge are happy that Shiro’s taking a break. They’ve been pushing him to take care of himself for a while now. Lance, predictably, had demanded a vacation for the rest of them.

Shiro hopes Allura gives them a little slack.

There’s an island chain near the equator of this planet. The water is a brilliant blue-green, and the beaches actually look white. Shiro guides the cruiser down and streams across the ocean’s surface.

He can see dark patches of sea plants under the water, and big light blue swaths where it’s just open sand. The sun is out, and there are very few clouds in the sky. He hopes the water is as warm as it looks. He’s never been a beach person, but after so long without? He could be very happy to splash in the waves.

Rahjim owns one of the islands. It’s not the largest, but it’s definitely not small either. It’s set off from the mainland, and with a soft curve to its shape to make a small lagoon facing away from the mainland. Private.

Shiro wonders how much privacy they’re going to need. As soon as he’d told Allura he was invited to see Rahjim she hadn’t stopped smirking at him. Shiro doesn’t really blame her. If Allura had to ask his permission to go see her friends-with-benefits, he thinks he’d tease her about that too. Not that he wants to think about Allura having sex. Well, if he’s being honest, maybe he wants to think about it a little bit.

Shiro still isn’t sure if Alteans can read minds, and so Shiro changes his right away before he’s struck down by lightning. Allura is magic, Shiro doesn’t know the limits of her powers and he’s not willing to test them.

Shiro punches in the landing sequence and lines up his descent onto a large stretch of beach. He can’t see another spacecraft here yet. Rahjim probably has a hangar to keep ships in, so Shiro’s not too bothered. Shiro’s actually running a little late— there had been a lot of last-minute things to attend to. He’d tried to send a transmission to Rahjim, but hasn’t gotten anything back yet. He hopes Rahjim isn’t mad at him.

The landing goes off without an issue. Shiro’s quite proud of himself. He feels like his skills have been getting a little rusty after flying so much with the Black Lion. When your ship is practically an extension of your own body, flying is a lot different. So when it’s just him and the mindless controls, he feels the absence of Black’s presence guiding his movements.

Shiro doesn’t have many belongings, let alone things that would work for leisure. Rahjim had assured him he didn’t need to bring anything, but Shiro had still packed a small bag. Knowing Rahjim he might just insist they don’t wear any clothes, and Shiro is almost okay with that.

There’s some small watercraft parked in the lagoon. They’re well-worn, so they must be local. Shiro closes up the cruiser and checks one last time that it’s secure. The tide line is well below him, but he’ll check with Rahjim before they get too distracted.

It’s hot. It’s almost unbearably hot. Shiro starts sweating the instant he steps off the cruiser. If not for his boots, he’s sure that his feet would be burning on the sand.

The ‘summer cabin’ is a large home built right into the trees. It’s practically a treehouse, except for where Shiro can pick out the little details that prove it’s more engineered than grown. It’s ridiculously luxurious. A mansion-treehouse. At least two stories, high arcing windows everywhere. There’s a large patio up front, and a big open balcony on the second floor that Shiro can see. The walkway up from the beach is nicely manicured, shrubs and plants trimmed back and grown into aesthetically pleasing shapes. Shiro almost expects to see some fancy topiary. He walks up the stairs to the house— they’re a little big to him, but he recalls that Rahjim has much longer legs, so that makes sense— and starts to get a little worried. Where’s Rahjim? He should have heard Shiro land.

Someone steps out of the house as he arrives. Shiro’s first thought is: _rainbow_.

They’re a dazzling array of colors from head to toe— brilliant reds and yellows, smatterings of blue and white. They’re tall— not as tall as Rahjim, maybe the same height as Shiro. What strikes Shiro is how they walk. It’s very distinct. A bird!

“Hi?” Shiro waves nervously as he approaches, “I’m, uh, is Prince Rahjim here?”

The alien tilts their head to listen to him as he talks. Shiro wonders if they have a translator to know what he’s saying.

Instead of replying, the alien fluffs it’s feathers and braces its legs like it’s ready to fight. Shiro steps back nervously. He… he has the right address, right? Is he on the wrong island? The wrong planet?

The alien opens its beaked mouth and…

And Rahjim’s voice comes out.

_“I am expecting a visitor named Shiro. He is a human, and may arrive before me. Please show him to the bedroom and help him get settled if this is the case. He has a translator but does not speak many common languages, so be patient with him. Shiro, if you are hearing this message, this is Arymithalilay. He and his family have been kind enough to maintain the estate for my family for many years. He is a local, and can hopefully answer any questions you may have. He does not have a translator implant, so it is unlikely he can understand your words. I shouldn’t be too long after you, but please make yourself at home.”_

Arymithalilay closes his mouth and waits for Shiro to speak.

Shiro decides to go for charades, and points at himself, “Shiro,” and then a wide gesture at the house, “Rahjim?”

Arymithalilay blinks at him— he has four amber eyes with small pupils, so his gaze is nothing if unnerving— and then, finally, talks.

“You’re strange looking.”

Shiro’s surprised into laughing. He’s heard that more than enough times from aliens he’s met.

Arymithalilay turns and gestures with one long wing to the house— Shiro can see that, like a bat, he has three talons on the bend of his wing. Two are curled, and one points up, so Shiro assumes they might work like fingers.

“You understand, yes?” Arymithalilay asks.

Shiro nods.

“Then come, the Prince has not arrived yet. You are early. I will show you to your room.”

Arymithalilay’s feathers shine in the light, and Shiro can’t take his eyes off of them. Can he fly? He seems like he’s too big to— but that’s thinking in terms of Earth. Who knows what this planet has to offer.

Shiro hefts his bag up onto his shoulder and follows the alien inside. He steps across the threshold and is hit with a wave of cool air.

Arymithalilay strikes up conversation as they go in, “You are having sex with the Prince, yes?”

Shiro wishes he’d just stayed on his cruiser. He nods again.

“Then you will be sharing his room. This way!”

The mansion— Rahjim called it a ‘summer home’ but it’s a _mansion_ — is fairly open in it’s layout. Light spills in from the wall-sized windows. Many of the windows are open, creating a nice breeze. There are a few aliens, the same species as Arymithalilay, tidying up the space. One is just as large as Arymithalilay, but surprisingly drab and brown compared to his dazzling array of colors. Two of them are noticeably smaller— one mousy like one parent, the other showing spots of adult feathers that are coming in bright like Arymithalilay. They must be Arymithalilay’s family, like Rahjim said. Shiro waves a hello to them as he follows his guide.

Shiro stops short at the sight of a pool snaking its way into the living room area. A pool! It makes him smile. Of course Rahjim would be so ostentatious as to have a pool _inside_ the house. It’s fairly narrow, and winds its way outside where Shiro can spy the larger end outside. It’s narrow enough that Shiro wonders for a moment if he could jump over it, and then shakes his head clear of the silly impulse.

The house isn’t sparsely decorated, but it’s not cluttered by any means. A few paintings line the walls, a few ornaments are set out on the coffee and end tables in the living room.

The living room area is connected right to the kitchen, and only cut off by the countertops outlining the kitchen. There’s a large island counter with stools tucked under the ledge of the outer side, and just across it are some sliding doors leading to a covered dining room out on the deck.

Shiro’s arrived a little after what passes for noon, and the heat and humidity outside were blistering. He can imagine that they’ll be spending a lot of time out on the deck, and then seeking refuge in the cooler house.

Arymithalilay directs Shiro to the kitchen, where he’s shown what must be a fridge. “Storage” is what Arymithalilay calls it. He’s shown how there’s food stocked for him and Rahjim, and then Arymithalilay seems to worry about Shiro’s competency and quickly shows Shiro how to use the stovetop. It’s surprisingly similar to earth appliances, though Shiro isn’t quite sure what they’re using as a heat source. Shiro has no way to explain that he’s a terrible cook and probably won’t be attempting anything with any alien ingredients. So he smiles and nods when Arymithalilay checks in on him to see if he’s understood.

There’s more ‘rooms’ on the bottom floor Shiro can see— the open floorplan means there’s no actual closed-off rooms, but it’s been sectioned with furniture and decorations to make it seem like there’s rooms. Shiro thinks he spots something similar to a piano.

Arymithalilay takes Shiro upstairs. The stairs don’t come to a landing, but right into a large bedroom. Two of the walls aren’t even walls— they’re huge windows spilling in light. The bed itself is also big, and high enough that Shiro thinks he might need a running start to jump into it. Arymithalilay points out the master bathroom off to the side, and then takes Shiro’s bag from him to set at the end of the bed.

The bedroom has a beautiful view of the ocean. Shiro can’t see any curtains for the windows, and isn’t quite sure how comfortable he is sleeping where anyone could be watching, but he trusts that Rahjim’s home will be safe.

There’s a _squawk_ downstairs, and then frenzied chittering. Shiro can barely make out a few words that his translator catches.

Arymithalilay’s crest of feathers stand up and he sighs wearily, “My children,” he explains apologetically, and then rushes downstairs. Shiro can hear him scolding the younger two. There’s something fond, and sweet, about families and siblings acting the same across the universe.

Shiro’s not sure if he’s supposed to wait for Arymithalilay to return, or go down to join him. The parental chittering has stopped, and he can hear sounds of the family busying themselves downstairs. Is his tour over? Should he go help?

Just as Shiro’s thinking about going downstairs— maybe he’ll go walk the beach to stay out of their way— the little mousy brown girl hops up the stairs. Shiro’s assuming she’s a girl, based on what he’s guessing is this species’ display of sexual dimorphism.

She’s holding a large cup in her spindly fingers— large only in comparison to her— and freezes at the top of the stairs to catch her balance and make sure she hasn’t dropped anything.

“Shiro!” she chirrups, and hops to him. Shiro bites the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. Her straight-legged hopping is really cute.

She hands the cup to him and clicks her beak. Shiro takes it graciously. It looks like a smoothie of some sort. She watches, all four yellow eyes focused on him, and waits for him to take a sip.

“Mm,” Shiro says, and means it. It is a smoothie! Fresh, cold and delicious, “thank you!”

She cocks her head to the side, unable to understand his words. The sentiment comes through, and when Shiro takes another sip she hops around his feet, fluffing up her feathers, and then races back downstairs.

Shiro passes the time sipping on his smoothie and poking his nose around upstairs. He’d really like for Rahjim to show up soon, or this is going to start to feel awkward.  
  


* * *

  
Shiro’s finished his smoothie, checked in with the team and let them know he arrived safely, and managed to get up onto the bed. He wasted a little more time chatting with everyone, and catching up on what they’ve been up to since he left them. He has to lie a bit, saying that he’s staying at a resort, rather than just Rahjim’s private home. Shiro thinks the truth makes it all too obvious what he’s up to, and he still likes the idea of being able to have a little privacy about his life.

His comm beeps and he has to end the call early with the team. It’s from Rahjim!

Shiro opens the link, and is greeted with the sight of someone who is _not_ Rahjim. It’s Rahjim’s assistant. Shiro met her a few times while they were staying with Rahjim for the peace treaties. She was often running errands or speaking only to Rahjim, so he doesn’t know her very well.

“Hello Shiro,” she says politely.

“Hi,” Shiro says, and grimaces when he can’t remember her name. Hopefully it’ll come to him.

“Arymithalilay informs me that you arrived. Is everything to your liking?”

Shiro nods, “Yeah, it’s great.”

“I have a message from the Prince,” Shiro’s heart skips a beat. Did something happen to Rahjim? “Some last-minute issues have come up, and the Prince is running later than he expected. Prince Rahjim asks that you not wait up for him, as he’s not sure when he will be able to get away.”

“Oh,” Shiro nods, “okay.”

His disappointment must show, because she adds, “He’s very sorry. You’re all he’s been talking about. We’re doing our best to send him on his way, but these things can’t be ignored.”

“I know,” Shiro agrees, “thanks for the update.”

Someone must catch her attention, because she looks away from him, starts talking, and then the line cuts out.

Shiro flops back onto the bed. Rahjim doesn’t know when he’ll be able to get away. Which means Shiro’s going to be here, alone, for a while. He shouldn’t have bothered coming. He could have spent the day with his team still, training them and getting them ready for his leave! He could have been working with Allura or Coran on strategy. He could be doing a million other things, and instead he’s alone on some strange planet in someone else’s home.

He’s angry. There’s bitter frustration churning in his gut, and Shiro has a stray thought of just leaving. If Rahjim wanted him to come so badly, then why didn’t he make sure he had everything taken care of? Why couldn’t Rahjim bother to talk to him to explain the situation?

Shiro also feels a little embarrassed. Arymithalilay and his family are still finishing cleaning up, and they’re going to know Shiro’s just wasting time while he waits for Rahjim to show up. Why? Because Shiro’s just Rahjim’s newest friend with benefits. Or maybe Shiro’s the only one who was willing to come.

Stewing on his own misery isn’t going to do him any good. Shiro _will_ pack up and go home if he keeps thinking like this. He knows Rahjim. Rahjim would have tried to be here on time. He’ll come as soon as he can.

Rahjim wants him to make himself comfortable. Shiro hops off the bed and opens the closet space. He’ll hang up his clothes. Then he’ll be making an attempt at staying, so he’ll stop thinking about leaving. When he opens his bag, though, he realizes how little he has and how pointless it is to hang up. Maybe he should have a nap. If he’s throwing a tantrum like this, it might mean he’s tired.

The thought of just going to sleep while Arymithalilay and his family are still here, and might still pop up to check on him, makes him feel uncomfortable. They know— or at least Arymithalilay knows— that Shiro’s here on Rahjim’s invite. And Arymithalilay knows that that involves sex. He doesn’t want to come across as some mindless lay for Rahjim that just waits for the Prince to show up to do anything.

Shiro hates this. He shouldn’t even be taking time off, but he wanted to see Rahjim so badly that he forced the issue. Does he really want to see Rahjim? Or does he just want to get laid? The universe is at stake. How can he justify wasting this time? He could be at home and jerk off in the shower like a normal person, not travel halfway across the universe just to be stood up.  

He scrubs his hands through his hair. He’s so stupid. This was such a mistake! And if he goes home now, the team is going to want to know what happened. Rahjim would also be offended. Shiro has half a thought of _good, let him_. He’s going to tell Rahjim off. Maybe he should just call back and tell Rahjim not to bother coming.

The afternoon is spent planning a very detailed speech about how just because Rahjim is a Prince, doesn’t mean he can disrespect Shiro like this. Shiro is a defender of the universe! A Paladin of Voltron! And he’s making the time to be here, so the very least Rahjim could do is return the favor.

It makes him feel better, imagining putting Rahjim in his place. It helps keep Shiro from feeling like he’s not a priority to Rahjim, and also helps in ignoring the complicated mess of emotions that comes with that.  
  


* * *

  
Arymithalilay and his family finish and leave after another hour or so. They come to say goodbye to Shiro, and the two children crane their necks to peer at Shiro’s face. Maybe they’re weirded out that he only has two eyes when they have four. Shiro isn’t sure if they leave the island, or how, or if they have a home somewhere else.

He meanders through the downstairs area now that he’s alone. He washes his smoothie cup, and then wastes his time trying to find out where it goes. And then searches the rest of the drawers in the kitchen.

He debates trying to make some food, but decides he isn’t that hungry yet. He could make something for Rahjim, but he doesn’t know when Rahjim will be here.

That thought makes him angry again so Shiro storms outside to walk the beach and suffer in the sun. It’s beautiful out. That should take his mind off of being abandoned.  
  


* * *

  
The day passes. Afternoon turns to evening, evening turns to night. Shiro’s sat on the couch and glared at the wall, at the stupid indoor pool. He laid on the bed, and burned holes in the ceiling. He’s alone in an unfamiliar home and it’s putting him on edge. He can’t sleep.

He busies himself in closing the windows and checking that all the doors are locked as night falls. He doesn’t know what this planet is like at night, doesn’t know what this island is like at night. He doesn’t know if anyone else is here, doesn’t know when Rahjim is going to show up, doesn’t know anything! And yet he’s been left in charge of making sure the house gets locked up.

Shiro should just go home and leave it open. What does he care if Rahjim gets robbed.  
  


* * *

  
He ends up making some snacks for himself. He’s not sure what anything is, but he cuts up what looks like some fruits. There’s enough to make what might be a salad. Some things are similar to what he’s seen Coran or Hunk cook with, so Shiro tries to copy what they do.

He doesn’t have much of an appetite. At the very least, Rahjim can think that Shiro made all of this for him, and then he’ll feel guilty for making Shiro wait.  
  


* * *

  
Shiro’s tired. It’s late, it’s dark, and he can’t even see the ocean anymore. He can hear it. There are outdoor lights on the house, and they all came on as the sun went down, but now he can’t see beyond the ring of light. Shiro feels exposed, so he retreats to the bedroom and sits on the floor away from the large windows. He doesn’t like this.

At first he thinks it’s the ocean. A low rumble, like a force of nature, but then it grows and grows and Shiro recognizes the sound of a spacecraft engine.

His heart skips a beat. Is it Rahjim? Is he here?

For a moment Shiro wonders if it’s an invader. He has to steel himself to get his worry under control. Who else would be coming?

When he stands up he can see the bright light of a spacecraft coming into the bay. It circles once, and then sets down on the far end of the beach beside Shiro’s cruiser. Shiro only gets an idea of it’s design, but he knows it’s not Galra. It’s Rahjim!

He barely touches the stairs on his way down to the front door.  
  


* * *

  
Shiro tries not to look like he’s running to him when he meets Rahjim on the beach out front. It’s really hard to be casual.

Rahjim is carrying a lot of bags.

“Shiro,” Rahjim says, and it sounds like a defeat, “I am so, truly sorry.”

All of Shiro’s angry passes in an instant. Rahjim is nothing but sincere, and he’s the leader of an entire solar system. He has important duties he can’t just walk away from.

“It’s fine,” Shiro shrugs. He can barely remember the speech he was going to give to Rahjim to make Rahjim feel guilty for hurting Shiro.

“I kept trying to leave, I swear. I didn’t realize how much time had passed.”

Shiro curbs the awkwardness by holding out a hand as he approaches, “Can I help?”

They move Rahjim’s bags inside without any further hassle. Rahjim looks… he looks tired. Stressed, too. His hair is tied back and looks like he hasn’t had the chance to wash it in a while. His skin is paler than Shiro remembers it being, and there’s a tone in his voice, a heaviness, that makes Shiro want him to just lie down already.

They take everything upstairs to the bedroom. Rahjim sits on the bed with a loud groan, resting his face in his hands.

“You weren’t kidding about being busy,” Shiro notes.

“I’m exhausted,” Rahjim admits.

“Are you hungry?” Shiro asks, “I can probably make you a sandwich. Or something.”

Rahjim shakes his head, and finally slides his hands off of his face. He blinks slowly, “No, no. I’ve eaten. If it’s alright, I think I’d like to retire for the night. I’ll be better company in the morning, I promise.”

“Sure,” Shiro agrees. It’s not like he can tell Rahjim what to do in his own home.

“You’re alright?” Rahjim asks again, “you found everything you needed? Would you like a tour? Are _you_ hungry?”

“I’m fine,” Shiro says. If Rahjim is going to bed, then Shiro’s _absolutely_ going to join him.

Rahjim pushes himself to his feet and starts undressing.

“I had some stuff pulled out in the kitchen, I’ll go put it away first,” Shiro says.

Rahjim nods in acknowledgment. It’s a testament to how tired he must be that he doesn’t offer to come along.

Shiro hustles down the stairs. He’s actually hungry himself, now that Rahjim is here and the house no longer feels so foreboding. Shiro pauses to snack on a few of the finger foods he’d put out. He’ll probably come eat for real after they have sex. Everything gets put in the fridge quickly, and maybe a little haphazardly. He doesn’t think he’s taken too much time, and rushes to get back upstairs.

The light is still on in the bedroom. Finally, everything feels right again. It’s just him and Rahjim in this beautiful home on this amazing planet.

Rahjim’s sleeping.

Shiro stops short. Is he— yes. He’s snoring. He’s asleep.

Guilt floats up in Shiro’s gut. He was so single-mindedly focused on hooking up with Rahjim that he hadn’t realized just how tired Rahjim was. Rahjim is a friend first, Shiro should have his best interests at heart.

Shiro takes a moment to compose himself. He’s going to be here for at least a week. There’s plenty of time for play. It’s wrong of him to feel disappointed.

He gathers his pajamas from his bag while he berates himself. By the time he’s dressed he has himself under control. Besides, he gets to sleep next to Rahjim. He has fond memories of sleeping in Rahjim’s arms.

Shiro hits the lights and then crawls into bed. The window-walls let in enough starlight that he can easily find his way.

Shiro slides in close to Rahjim, pressing their bodies together. Rahjim is on his back, snoring softly, with his hands curled loosely over his chests. Shiro presses up against him, but there’s no response. Rahjim’s sleeping too deeply to notice him.

Shiro presses his back against Rahjim’s side, as close as he can be, and tries not to feel so alone.  
  


* * *

  
When Shiro wakes up it’s still dark out. The stars are faint, which means it’s closer to dawn.

He’s also half hard and turned on.

At some point in the night he rolled onto his stomach, and his face is turned into Rahjim’s shoulder. Rahjim has rolled onto his side, and has two arms thrown across Shiro’s back. He’s an excellent weight, and a very familiar one. Not to mention the smell of him is all Shiro can notice. Little wonder why Shiro’s so turned on.

Shiro turns his head away from Rahjim and tries to go back to sleep. He’s fine. He can ignore this.

Settling into the bed again makes him rub up against the mattress. Shiro has half a mind to do it again, like he’s 16 and pretending he’s not imagining people he knows. But he’s trying to sleep. Why is this happening now, of all times?

Maybe he should try and excuse himself. Have a shower. But that means leaving Rahjim’s embrace, and Shiro’s sure he can fall back asleep if he stops thinking so much.

Shiro shifts again to get comfortable, and muffles his groan into his pillow. He’s in a loop. He’s keying himself up, trying to pretend he isn’t aroused. He has to go have a shower.

He tries not to jostle Rahjim too much, and rolls away from him.

Rahjim’s fingers tangle in Shiro’s shirt and hold him in place.

Shiro twists his neck to look at Rahjim. It’s just light enough that he can see Rahjim’s eyes blinking open.

“What are you doing?” Rahjim murmurs.

Shiro debates the truth for a moment, before deciding on a white lie, “Bathroom,” he says, “go back to sleep.”

Rahjim’s other hand curls to hold Shiro’s hip, “I was having such a nice dream,” he says, “you and I, and all the things we can do while we’re here. But I realized, even in my dream,” Rahjim’s hand lets go of Shiro’s shirt and comes to rest on his lower back, and he pushes down to force Shiro to grind against the mattress again, “that I’ve neglected my favorite concubine, haven’t I?”

Shiro gasps as his body shudders.

“You’re tired,” Shiro argues, “I’m just going to shower. You don’t have to do this.”

Rahjim pushes his hips down again. Shiro drops his face into his pillow with a moan.

“I asked you to come to me, and I’ve barely touched you,” Rahjim continues, “you poor thing.”

Shiro’s not sure if he wants to tell Rahjim off for patronizing him, or play along.

Rahjim shifts his weight as he leans in and his breath is hot on Shiro’s ear.

“Do you want to hear what I was dreaming about?” His voice is still rough with sleep, and it resonates in Shiro’s bones.

This is what Shiro has been waiting for. Why he came here. Shiro decides to play along.

“Yes,” Shiro says.

He gets a kiss to his cheek, and then Rahjim is whispering in his ear again.

“I dreamed of watching your fingers tangle in the sheets, of hearing you gasp my name. Of the flush in your face as I take you apart. I dreamed of having my hands on you, how I’ll open you up and how slick you’ll be,” now that Shiro has the rhythm Rahjim wants him to keep, Rahjim’s hand leaves Shiro’s hip to grope his ass, “how tight you’ll feel around me, and how warm. I dreamed about how you’ll shake and beg for more. I dreamed about marking you, claiming you as mine so anyone who saw you would know exactly where you belong. Would know exactly what we do here together.”

Rahjim’s hand squeezes between Shiro’s legs and Shiro cries out. It feels so good. He’s ready, he’s so ready to have Rahjim touch him. His hands feel so distant through Shiro’s clothes. Shiro wants them on his skin.

Shiro tries to sit up, to start stripping. Rahjim forces him down.

“No, just like this,” Rahjim says, and kisses Shiro’s cheek again.

Shiro looks up at him as Rahjim starts rocking Shiro’s hips again.

“I dreamed you’d look at me like that,” Rahjim grins, “that you’d fall apart in my hands. That you’d trust me to care for you, and that I will listen if you don’t like something.”

He pauses, giving Shiro the option to say no.

Shiro pushes back into Rahjim’s hand, and looks at him as he grinds down again.

Rahjim’s eyes are bright in the pre-dawn light, “Yes, yes, you wonderful boy.”

Shiro bites his lip and looks away. His stomach does flip-flops separate from the pleasure hitting him as he thrusts down against the mattress.

“You like direction,” Rahjim purrs, “and being told what to do. You wanted me to take charge all night, to use you like you were meant to be used. So needy, Shiro. Why didn’t you say something?”

It’s another prompt, requiring an answer.

“You’re tired,” Shiro says, and glances up, “and you fell asleep.”

Rahjim laughs, and nods in agreement, “I would have woken up for this. For you. All you have to do is ask.”

His fingers are pressing through Shiro’s pants, just enough pressure where Shiro wants to press back against it, but it’s not enough.

Rahjim’s lips are touching the shell of Shiro’s ear, “A deal, then. I promise to fuck you senseless, every day. It will be your job to tell me when to stop. You never have to deny yourself around me,” Rahjim breaths heavily in time with Shiro, “I want you to feel happy. I want to take you places you’ve never been.”

“I’ve never been to this planet,” Shiro points out.

He gets a pinch to the ass for that.

“Cheeky. Have you ever come like this, untouched, except for words?” Rahjim asks.

Shiro considers teenaged experiments, but decides not to mention them. He shakes his head.

“Listen closely,” Rahjim whispers, and there’s a growl to his voice that sends chills down Shiro’s spine. They’re doing this. It’s happening.

“This is the warm up,” Rahjim says, “the prelude of what’s to come. You won’t know your body without traces of me, without my marks, after I’m done. I want you here to touch you, to hold you. I want to love you under the stars. I want to see you come apart, I want you pushed past your limits and still begging for me. Do you want that?”

It takes Shiro a moment to collect himself enough to reply, “Yes.”

“Of course you do. You’re starved for me. I’m where you’re safe. Your body aches for me. I can see it in you. You want my mouth on you— biting at your nipples, sucking your cock. I’ll mark up your throat. You’ll wear my bruises proudly. You want my hands to pinch and tease you. You want my fingers inside of you, on you, holding you down.”

“Yes,” Shiro gasps. He’s clinging to his pillow, trying to keep his head up to look at Rahjim. He’s rutting against the bed, desperate for the kind of friction he’s not going to get.

“You’re so good like this,” Rahjim kisses his hairline above his ear, “so good to me. You want to please so badly. I’ll reward you.

“Please,” Shiro pants. He squeezes his eyes shut. He’s close, he can feel the end approaching.

Rahjim’s scent fills his senses and Shiro leans towards him. Rahjim meets him halfway with an open-mouthed kiss. Shiro’s been thinking about the way Rahjim kisses for too long, missing it for too long. He’s hungry, panting into Rahjim’s mouth while trying to demand more.

He feels the slide of Rahjim’s tongue on his lips, and then the tingling sensation of Rahjim’s second tongue. Shiro’s toes curl in excitement. It’s better than he remembered.

Rahjim’s hand is still tight on his ass, fingers pressing in between his legs, to where Shiro can feel them but his pants are still in the way. The pressure, the intention, is enough to make Shiro tremble with desire.

It isn’t even just that he’s finally having sex with another person again—he and Rahjim have had a few more rounds of phone sex since they first met—but it’s how Rahjim touches him so confidently and easily. And how Shiro wants this touch. He wants Rahjim’s hands on him, he wants the wet heat of Rahjim’s breath against his ear before Rahjim tugs at it with his teeth. The dip of the bed towards Rahjim’s body weight, Rahjim’s heavy breathing to fill the spaces between Shiro’s own gasps. It’s this intimacy, that this can just happen between them, that makes Shiro want to pinch himself to be sure he’s not dreaming.

“I love you,” Rahjim whispers. He moves closer so he can really put his weight into it as he pushes Shiro’s hips down against the bed. Shiro cries out, arches back against Rahjim’s grip.

“My special concubine,” Rahjim praises, following his words with wet kisses to Shiro’s cheek and temple, “my filthy, needy, delightful concubine. Saying yes to me was the best choice you ever made.”

“It was,” Shiro agrees. He doesn’t even know who he’d be if he hadn’t said yes to Rahjim. It’s changed him so much, just that one night.

Rahjim falls silent, apparently surprised. His grips go slack. Maybe Shiro wasn’t supposed to answer.

“Sorry,” Shiro says, “did I ruin the dirty talk? You can still call me a whore. Or anything.”

Rahjim frowns, “You ruin nothing. Why would you say that?”

“Say yes?” Shiro asks. He’s trying to stop but he can’t keep himself from grinding against the bed. He’s too hard to stop.

“No, you keep apologizing for being honest,” Rahjim sighs, “I thought we’d gotten past that.”

“I’m a tough nut to crack,” Shiro replies. He’s not sure if it’s a boast. It’s not a great boast.

“True, we only had the night,” Rahjim agrees, “but now. I have you here for days,” Shiro’s stomach does flip-flops because Rahjim’s tone drops and this sounds like a threat. Like a good threat. The kind of threats Rahjim makes because he knows Shiro likes them.

“This time I have you for days. And I always love a challenge,” Rahjim says.

Shiro has nothing witty to come back with. Rahjim reaches up higher between Shiro’s legs to grip Shiro’s balls through his clothes, squeezing just enough that Shiro shouts because _finally_ a touch where he needs it!

“You’ll be my whore for the whole week,” Rahjim growls into his ear, clearly getting ready for another round of dirty talk—

and Shiro comes right in his pants.

His whole body arches, and he presses his face into his pillow as he gasps and rides the surge of pleasure. He can hear Rahjim laughing in surprise, feel Rahjim’s hand continuing to massage Shiro through his clothes, but he can’t focus on any one thing.

He slumps, finally, into a nearly boneless heap. His pants are wet and gross, and he needs to get up to change before he soaks through to the bed. That’s probably not good guest etiquette.

“That was…” Shiro starts, and doesn’t know what else to say. He turns his head out from the pillow to look up at Rahjim, “thanks.”

“I didn’t realize how much you liked being called a whore,” Rahjim chuckles, “I’ll remember that next time I want you to come quickly.”

“It wasn’t that, I was already close!” Shiro informs him.

Rahjim gives him a skeptical look, “Should I call you a slut instead?”

Shiro turns his face back into the pillow and hopes he dies of suffocation.

Rahjim laughs again. Shiro has half a mind to flip him off, but his afterglow feels too good to ruin with any further movement.

All the wind is knocked out of Shiro when Rahjim rolls on top of him.

“Stop pouting,” Rahjim says, “you’re too cute to pout.”

“I’m not _pouting_ ,” Shiro says.

Rahjim kisses the back of Shiro’s neck, and then presses his mouth to Shiro’s skin and blows hard. Shiro jolts at the gross sound and odd sensation, but Rahjim holds him down.

“Now you’re not.” Shiro can hear the grin in Rahjim’s voice.

Shiro reaches up to rub the lingering tingle off of his skin. Rahjim catches his hand to kiss his knuckles.

“I don’t mind getting a little dirtier with the talk, if you want,” he says, “whatever will make you happy.”

“I think sleeping will make me happy,” Shiro stifles a yawn, “I haven’t been sleeping well in… well, a while.”

Rahjim settles heavier onto Shiro, “It’s still very early, and we have nowhere to be. We can sleep in. I could use that too.”

Shiro’s not even sure how to process the idea of sleeping in. He knows he used to enjoy it, rarely, but he hasn’t in… in over a year now. Longer.

“Lemme get changed,” Shiro says, “I’m getting sticky.”

Rahjim shifts his weight around as he gets comfortable lying on top of Shiro.

“Rahjim,” Shiro groans.

“This is your punishment for not being honest,” Rahjim informs him. Shiro feels him press a soft kiss to the back of Shiro’s neck, “you’re a tough nut to crack. I have to take extreme measures.”

Shiro drops his head onto his pillow, “I thought I already said sorry for that.”

“Not sorry!” Rahjim scolds him, “a promise that tomorrow, five minutes from now, six hours from now, whenever you want something, you’ll tell me.”

“Okay. Okay, I promise. Now let me up.”

“No,” Rahjim says, and he sounds so happy about the whole thing. Rahjim grinds his hips down, forcing Shiro to feel the come in his pants.

“Why?”

“Because I said so. Because last time we were together I promised to keep you absolutely debauched,” Rahjim says, and then he leans closer like he’s telling a secret, “and because I know you like this.”

Shiro wishes he had a good reason for why that’s not true. But Rahjim’s too good at calling him on his bullshit. And also really good and bringing out all the weird kinky stuff that Shiro doesn’t even know he has in him.

“Yeah,” Shiro relents, and relaxes.

There’s probably some psychology term for it— or maybe it’s just the orgasm— but the weight of Rahjim on him, of his warmth and the movement of his breaths and his hands touching Shiro on all sides, just make Shiro feel loose and sleepy. He’s content, and surprisingly happy from that alone.

Rahjim kisses his shoulder, and settles in with his face nearly pressed into Shiro’s hair, “That’s my good boy.”

Shiro groans an indignant response. He’s not a dog.

Rahjim misunderstands, or, knowing him, purposefully pretends to misunderstand, “Sorry. Good whore.”

“You’re terrible,” Shiro mumbles.

Rahjim pats Shiro’s side, and chuckles in agreement. They breathe out at the same time, a long sigh of relief as they let their energy slip away. It’s still dark outside, and it’s easy now for Shiro to slide back into a deep, restful sleep.


	2. Day 2: Immobilization

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to Day 2! Here's where... things get embarrassing. For me.
> 
> It turns out your author is not good at dates and calender's and assumed she had much more time than she actually had to prepare. As such, the rest of this "week" will be posted as they're finished, which means there's going to be some gaps in wait times. I'm so, so sorry. But this is a doozy of a chapter, which I hope will tide y'all over until next time ;)
> 
> **Warning: in case it bothers anyone, Shiro does get triggered in this chapter and goes into a dissociative state. He's absolutely fine and safe, and Rahjim is with him!
> 
> But what's a Rahjim story without a little emotional hurt/comfort anyways?!

Shiro wakes up pleasantly warm. He’s sprawled on his stomach, one arm loosely wrapped around the pillow he has tucked under himself, the other stretched out in front of him. It’s bright, and he has to blink awake against the glare of the sun through the two transparent walls.

He’s alone in the bed. He pushes himself up slowly and stretches out. Rahjim is nowhere to be found.

Shiro has to crawl to get to the end of the bed. He scrubs his face as he listens for signs of movement. None. Weird.

He knows he didn’t dream about Rahjim showing up last night— his underwear feels gross from the dried come of their late night romp. So he’s not sure where he’s gone. There’s no note on the bedside table, and Shiro can’t remember Rahjim talking about any urgent business.

It’s probably nothing, Shiro tells himself. He woke up early, and is probably just downstairs reading, or on the beach.

Shiro would love to go searching, but he can’t walk around like this.

He slides off the bed and shuffles to the en suite bathroom.

It’s huge, and his footsteps echo. Shiro spots two in-ground baths. He wonders what the difference is. The shower is, thankfully, easy enough to find. Shiro’s grateful for familiar designs.

After that, though, is a whole new story. If Shiro thought trying to use an unfamiliar shower back on earth was enough of a challenge, trying an unfamiliar _alien_ shower proves to be. Shiro happens to be standing inside the shower when he finally manages to turn it on. Even if he’s outside the house, there’s no way Rahjim didn’t hear Shiro’s completely undignified yell of a man doused in cold water unexpectedly.

The shower is, as everything Rahjim owns, expensive and extravagant, and before Shiro makes it out of harms way, it’s risen in temperature and is actually quite pleasant now. He’s already soaked, so he just takes off his clothes and tosses them to the side without stepping out.

Shiro takes his time washing, in preparation for some fun. He’s sure that Rahjim is going to pop in at any moment. He can’t keep the smile off of his face, remembering all the fun they had in the last shower they were in together. He still can’t believe he’s here! It’s been so long since he last saw Rahjim, and yet it feels like it was so recent.

Rahjim doesn’t show up, and Shiro’s run out of ways to waste time. What is he doing?

Shiro steps out of the shower— and gets blasted with a wave of hot air. He’s so startled that he almost falls over backwards. The surprise air dry is done in moments, leaving Shiro squeaky clean and his hair extra fluffy.

“No need for towels,” Shiro muses out loud. He’ll put his wet clothes out on the balcony to dry, once he puts some new clothes on.

Shiro pokes his head out of the bathroom to make sure no one is there, and then hurries into the room. Without a towel he’s naked, and he’s nervous about those two huge windows and someone being able to see him.

The bed has been made, and Shiro feels a spike of guilt. Should he have done that before he showered? Does Rahjim think he’s a huge slob? There’s also a robe set out for him. Shiro immediately recognizes the stitching and patterns from Rahjim’s home planet. It’s not one of Rahjim’s though— the shoulders are too narrow, and it’s too short.

It takes Shiro too long to realize it’s not just meant for him to wear, it was _made_ for him.

The fabric is soft on his skin, and he ties it closed with a sash around his waist like he’s seen Rahjim wear his. Shiro debates on leaving the top open, so his chest is exposed, or wearing it closed. In the end he wants to be decent in case someone else is here. The last thing Shiro wants is to accidentally scandalize Arymithalilay or any of his family. Or show them his scars.

There are big slits up either side, on his legs, and Shiro also considers hunting down a pair of underwear. If he’s covering up his chest, then, maybe he’ll try to be a little sexy and go full Altean, like last time. He checks quickly, and the fabric of the robe is heavy enough that no one should be able to notice.

With his plan in place, Shiro heads downstairs.  
  


* * *

  
There’s no one else with Rahjim, so far as Shiro can see, but the Prince has his back turned to Shiro at the moment. He’s focused on the stove top, where he’s frying something that smells delicious.

Shiro approaches slowly. Rahjim notices the movement and lifts his head. He breaks into a wide smile.

“Good morning,” Rahjim calls.

He holds out a hand to Shiro, and as soon as Shiro’s palm is in his, Rahjim pulls him in. Shiro goes easily, maybe a little too easily, and tilts his head back so they can kiss.

Rahjim is wearing a robe in the same style as Shiro, though his is completely open to the waist.

“You look dashing,” Rahjim says.

Shiro steps back, arms out, to show off the robe, “It’s very generous, thank you. But how did you get my measurements?”

“I’m a very good eye with these things,” Rahjim says, and stirs their breakfast, “plus, I did have my hands all over you. Makes it a little easier to measure.”

“Impressive,” Shiro agrees, and then gestures to the cooking Rahjim is doing, “is there anything I can do to help?”

“Have a seat, I’m just about done,” Rahjim says.

This is… this is very luxurious. No one actually has to cook on the Castleship, since they can just eat pre-made goo, but it’s become standard to eat a cooked meal when they can afford the time. Everyone chips in some effort in some way or another, so having a meal completely prepared for him feels pleasantly odd to Shiro.

“Unless,” Rahjim realizes, “did _you_ need anything?”

Shiro thinks back to the promise he made last night— to ask for what he wants. Does he want to have sex right now? Well… yes. Yes he does.

“I’m more hungry than anything,” Shiro decides, “but I… I do want to, you know.”

Rahjim nods in agreement, “We’ll get food taken care of first, then.”

“Have you been up long?” Shiro asks.

Rahjim shakes his head, “I slept very well— I am sorry for going to sleep so early— but when I woke up, you were still sleeping so peacefully that I couldn’t bear to wake you up.”

Shiro smiles at that. He loves the feeling of sharing a bed with Rahjim. The closeness, the smell, the warmth. He’s looking forwards to lots of it this week.

Rahjim scrapes breakfast from the skillet onto two plates, and hands one across the island to Shiro. It almost looks like a messy omelet, except the ‘egg’ looks gritty, and it’s predominantly green in color. Shiro takes a nervous bite. Sometimes aliens have really disgusting flavors to their foods. In a surprising turn of events, it’s delicious.

Rahjim watches him nervously for a response.

Shiro gives him a thumbs up as he finishes swallowing, “This is amazing!”

Rahjim grins triumphantly, “I haven’t had a chance to cook in a while, so, I was a little worried.”

“You like to cook?” Shiro asks.

“Do I like to cook?” Rahjim scoffs, “I am an intergalactically trained and highly awarded chef.”

Shiro snorts, “Of course you are.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Rahjim demands. He’s smiling, so he was probably boasting on purpose. 

Shiro shoves a big bite of not-omelet into his mouth to avoid answering. They eat in silence and Shiro glances around the house again. It’s so spacious and nicely decorated. Now that Rahjim is here, Shiro doesn’t feel like such an intruder.

The pool in the living room looks particularly appealing, and Shiro’s going to make sure to swim in it for the novelty alone.

“You know,” Shiro remarks, “when I applied for the Mission to Kerberos, we hoped to find evidence of alien life. Microbes, bits of genetic code. Really small— but monumental— stuff. So, if someone were to tell me that I’d end up in an alien’s beach house where he cooks me breakfast— I’d tell them they were crazy.”

“It’s alien _Prince_ _’s_ beach house,” Rahjim corrects him, “and of course I’m feeding you. I can’t have a hungry concubine, now, can I?”

Shiro chuckles, and then a thought occurs to him and he laughs out loud, “Oh my god! It— I can’t believe this is my life.”

“What?” Rahjim asks, curious.

Shiro pushes his bangs back out of his face, “Well, uh, humans haven’t made contact with aliens yet, or confirmed they— you— exist. But there’s a huge subculture that believes you do, and many that think aliens have been coming to earth for years and abducting humans. For experiments.”

Rahjim frowns, “Well, I suppose I can see where this would relate—”

“It’s usually made fun of by the majority of people,” Shiro says, before they can relate this to Shiro’s time in the Galra prisons, “so it’s like, an urban legend. But, um, the big joke is that aliens abduct humans to, uh, to probe them.”

“Probe?” Rahjim furrows his brows.

Shiro wonders why he brought this up in the first place. It’s not even funny, truly. It was only funny to him in the moment.

“It’s, well, um— at first the big joke was ‘aliens abducted me and did weird experiments on me’, but the big joke started being ‘aliens abducted me and, well, had sex with me’,” Shiro explains, “that’s the probe joke. Aliens probe you.”

“And I… ‘probe’ you when we have sex,” Rahjim connects the dots, “so you have been abducted by aliens, and now you have been ‘probed’ by an alien. You’re living out a human folklore story.”

Shiro presses his face into his hand, “I’m sorry, it’s not funny.”

Rahjim chuckles, “If you wanted to do a little role play, I’ve got some fun things I could probe you with.”

Shiro eats the last bite of his not-omelet, “But you’d have to abduct me first.”

“I’m sure I could catch you,” Rahjim boasts.

“You could _try_ ,” Shiro challenges on reflex.

Rahjim narrows his eyes at Shiro from across the island, and Shiro gets goosebumps. He sees Rahjim tense, and realizes what he’s just gotten himself into.

Shiro leaps backwards, toppling the stool he was sitting on, as Rahjim lunges across the island to grab at him. Shiro makes it just out of reach, and runs further into the living room. Rahjim throws down his plate and is moments behind him, having to weave around the counter tops in the kitchen.

Shiro’s grateful he’s not wearing socks so he can get some traction on the polished floor. He glances over his shoulder, and Rahjim is catching up to him quickly with long strides.

Shiro takes one glance at the swimming pool, and decides to try something really stupid.

It’s barely a decision— because the other option is to let Rahjim catch him. And that’s not a choice.

Shiro lines up his approach— and hears a worried call from Rahjim— and then launches himself off of the side, kicking his feet out to land running. He makes it! His feet slide out from under him and he lands hard on his butt as he skids on the floor.

Shiro barely turns around in time to see Rahjim hesitate on the jump, and then his momentum sends him toppling headfirst into the pool. Shiro laughs out loud, but pushes himself up to make sure Rahjim is okay.

He surfaces quickly, standing up. It’s evident that the pool isn’t particularly deep.

Rahjim slicks his wet hair back out of his face, and blinks owlishly as he shakes some water off of his hands.

“You okay?” Shiro calls.

“Alive,” Rahjim laughs, “but you should take the head start while you have it.”

“You’re not serious,” Shiro says.

Rahjim makes it to the edge of the pool, and using two of his arms, heaves himself out in one jump. He gets his feet under him, and now he’s too close for comfort.

Shiro doubles back with a laugh, running through the kitchen and into the house. He can hear the wet slap of Rahjim’s feet just behind him. With nowhere else to go, Shiro hits the stairs running and takes them three at a time. He grabs the rail and swings himself over the top of it and onto the upper level, avoiding the last few stairs and just missing Rahjim’s lunge to snag him.

“Just you wait earthling! I’m going to probe you!” Rahjim shouts in a deep voice.

Shiro’s almost laughing too hard to answer, in a high voice, “Oh no! Someone help me!”

He runs through the bedroom, and goes opposite the bathroom. Rahjim is hot on his heels. Shiro’s heart pounds in his chest, and he’s laughing so hard he can’t catch his breath.

He runs through what must be an office— it’s relatively sparse and has a large desk. The sun shines bright through the skylights up top, and the windows lining one side of the room.

Shiro’s running blind now. He doesn’t know where he’s going. Rahjim’s going to catch him if he doesn’t think of something.

The next room is the end of the enclosed housing, leading onto the deck. It’s a small kitchenette and bar, and narrow for all the counter space on either side. Shiro turns for the open end, leading to the large deck, and sprints. He’ll be able to double back to the bedroom from here, and get downstairs, and then he can run for the beach.

“You won’t get away!” Rahjim calls.

His adrenaline is at an all time high, and his heart beats so hard Shiro thinks he can feel each beat like a punch. His throat hurts from trying to suck in air.

He misjudges the open entry, not realizing that it’s another window. Shiro hits it, just barely manages to catch himself before he cracks his face into it, and in one second to the next he realizes he’s trapped. He can’t escape. He doesn’t know the layout and now he’s going to be caught and who knows what they’re going to do to him when they catch him—

Hands grab Shiro roughly. It’s too late. They’re here.

“Got you,” a low voice growls.

Shiro screams—  
  


* * *

  
—know where you are? Shiro, can you hear me?”

It feels like he’s underwater. Everything is blurry, and muted. He can’t move.

“You’re safe, I promise. No one is here to harm you. Try to take a deep breath.”

Shiro tries, but his breath catches on a sob and he chokes.

“Good, good. Come back, you’re okay. Everything is okay. Just keep breathing. In, out. In, out.”

Shiro feels like he’s breathing through a straw. He whines and wheezes with every breath. The chaos of sensations around him starts to settle. He’s coming out of the water.

He scrubs at his face with his hands. Wipes his eyes, his runny nose, the spit on his chin.

When he looks up he finally recognizes Rahjim crouched in front of him.

“Shiro?” Rahjim asks hopefully, “can you hear me?”

Shiro nods weakly.

Rahjim smiles, “Good. Lets keep breathing. Do you know where you are?”

Shiro glances around. He doesn’t know exactly where— but it’s Rahjim’s vacation home. He’s not in the prison. He nods again.

Rahjim nods with him, and smiles, “You’re doing very good. Breathe with me. Nice and slow, yes, just like that. Now, there’s a nice bench on the deck we can go sit on, if you’d like some fresh air. How do you feel about moving?”

Shiro still feels like he can’t breathe right. He’s breathing too fast, too shallow. His legs feel numb and his arms are heavy. But getting out of this corner, out of his own mess of emotions, sounds like a good idea. He nods again.

Rahjim holds out a hand, “Let me help you up.”

Shiro can’t find his voice yet, but he thinks Rahjim might have to carry him. He manages to reach out anyways, and sets his hand in Rahjim’s.

The instant their skin touches, Shiro feels like he could puke. He recoils from Rahjim so hard that he knocks his shoulders on the window behind him.

Rahjim pulls his hand back as well, “It’s okay. You’re okay. I’m going to go open the door, and then I’ll be here if you need help. Take your time.”

The kitchenette is small, so Rahjim is never out of sight as he walks to the other end to open a door. At the same time, as soon as he’s a few steps away from Shiro, Shiro can’t focus on him anymore. He’s aware of Rahjim in the back of his mind, but Shiro can only keep an eye on what’s right in front of him.

He flinches when a blanket drops in front of him. Rahjim’s staying back.

“You’re shaking,” Rahjim says, “I want to get you into the sun, but only when you’re ready to move.”

Shiro nods in agreement. He would really like to get out of the corner. He’s feeling pressed in on all sides and when he thinks about it too hard he can feel panic rising like bile.

His hands still don’t feel like his, like he’s watching through someone else’s eyes as they move their body around, and so it takes some effort to reach out and pick up the blanket. He very nearly just pulls it over his head for how hard it is to coordinate all of his limbs.

The movement is good, though, and he starts regaining some connection to his legs. Leaning hard against the glass window behind him, Shiro grabs the nearest cabinet handle with his right hand and starts to hoist himself up. Rahjim has two hands tucked under his armpits, and the other two are being held close to his body. He wants to help, but he’s being respectful of Shiro’s space. Shiro wants more than anything to let Rahjim hold him, but he can’t stand the thought of skin to skin contact right now.

“Just down this way,” Rahjim instructs. He walks backwards, keeping out of Shiro’s way but hovering close enough that he might try and intervene if Shiro falls over.

It’s slow, and hard, at first. But the movement helps get Shiro’s brain back on track. He has sense of where his limbs are, where his body ends. He recognizes that he’s not in pain, his body is right here in Rahjim’s home. It’s easier to know that he’s not _there_.

A lifetime passes before Shiro makes it to the open door. Warm, humid air spills into the air-conditioned room, and it draws Shiro in like a fly to honey.

He has to stand for a moment, in the sun, and clinging to the doorway. It’s a short open stretch across the balcony to what looks like a flat couch-like piece of furniture that’s wide enough to fit at least two people lying down. The sun is hot and warm on his skin, and the complete opposite of the cold of the prisons and Shiro drinks it all in. He wants to bask in the sun forever.

He’s more sure of himself as he marches across the deck. Shiro intends to sit down, thinking that his legs are going to give out, but then he reaches the railing on the deck and peers down onto the white sand beach and the green-blue waves rolling onto shore, and he’s rooted to the spot. He can hear the movement of the waves from here, the gentle roll and tumble of water. It’s bright and beautiful— he can see the thick jungle that covers a lot of the island, the beautiful coastline. The glitter of sunlight on the water. The flat horizon of the ocean.

“Did you want any food? Water?” Rahjim asks. He’s standing just out of arms reach.

Shiro shakes his head. He pulls his blanket tighter around his shoulders.

“Take your time,” Rahjim says, “we have no agenda.”

He stands with Shiro for a little while, quietly taking in the view. There’s a salty warm breeze that Shiro drinks in, and he closes his eyes to tilt his face up to the sun. Rahjim eventually moves to sit on the bench.

Shiro feels so peaceful that he nearly falls asleep where he’s standing. When he blinks awake, finally feeling present in time and body, he’s sweating from having the blanket on. He drops it so it pools around his ankles.

“Rahjim?” Shiro croaks, and turns to face his host. His throat still hurts. He was probably screaming while he was blacked out. He hopes he wasn’t yelling _at_ Rahjim.

Rahjim rises slowly from the bench, and steps towards him. Shiro holds out a hand, and Rahjim extends one of his until their fingertips touch. It feels good again, and Shiro twines their fingers together. Rahjim steps closer and pulls Shiro into a tight hug, all four arms wrapped around him. Shiro presses his face into Rahjim’s chest and holds tight to him.

“I hate this,” Shiro whimpers. They were having fun. He’s in a safe place, with someone he trusts, and his mind still went haywire. It’s so out of his control that Shiro doesn’t even know when it’s going to happen.

“I’m here,” Rahjim says, and holds him tighter.

It’s not particularly profound, but Shiro’s struck by the fact that Rahjim is _here_ and holding him, even after all of Shiro’s screaming, panicking drama. His eyes burn with shame, and helplessness, and fear. How many times is this going to happen to him? When he doesn’t even know _why_ or _when_ it could happen? How many times is he going to have to be a victim of his own trauma?

Rahjim threads his fingers into Shiro’s hair, holding him tight, and strokes down his back. It’s the soft touches that do it, and Shiro starts crying. It’s over nothing, and yet everything, and he doesn’t know how to explain himself except that it feels like what he should be doing.

Rahjim pulls them back so he can sit on the bench, and he lifts Shiro into his lap. It’s conflicting, being so upset with the hot sun on the back of his neck, but cathartic too. Shiro can’t stand the thought of being cold right now.

Rahjim soothes him with soft hands and softer words while Shiro shakes through the worst of it. He’s grateful that he’s able to accept the physical contact now. He doesn’t want to be alone. He wants to stop being so afraid of his own mind!

By the time Shiro’s feeling throughly wrung out, he has enough of himself composed to feel ashamed about having such a fit. He also is aware enough to realize that he’s uncomfortable, physically.

“You’re wet,” Shiro mumbles. Rahjim’s wet robe is damp now, but the dampness is soaking into Shiro’s robe too.

Rahjim chuckles, and Shiro can feel it more than hear it.

“I didn’t think that game would upset you,” Rahjim confesses, “in hindsight… I’ll be more careful in the future.”

“I didn’t know either,” Shiro admits.

“It scared me,” Rahjim admits, and presses a kiss to the top of Shiro’s head, “you went away completely. I wasn’t sure when you would be able to come back.”

“Sorry,” Shiro says.

Rahjim shushes him, “It’s not your fault. You’re handling this incredibly well.”

“It sucks,” Shiro sighs.

Rahjim rubs his back, “It does.”

Shiro can feel the burn of tears in his eyes, but he doesn’t want to wallow in misery any longer. He thinks he’s through the worst of it, and present enough in his body that he won’t accidentally be triggered again. He wants to move on to something else.

They did a really good job of distracting Shiro’s mind, back during their night together. Sex sounds like a really good answer.

“Where were we?” Shiro asks, “before this?”

Rahjim pulls back to give him a quizzical look. He’s not catching on.

“You were chasing me,” Shiro reminds him, “and you caught me.”

Recognition dawns on Rahjim’s face, “I did,” he says, “and I didn’t catch you, I _abducted_ you. And now you have to do whatever I say, Earthling.”

“I’ll take you to my leader,” Shiro jokes. His voice cracks a little, but Rahjim doesn’t point it out.

Rahjim doesn’t question the phrase either, so Shiro assumes he’s chalking it up to ‘yet another weird human thing’ or maybe just ‘another stupid thing Shiro might say before sex’. Rahjim lifts Shiro off of his lap and pushes him forwards until he’s pressed against the railing, facing the ocean, with Rahjim pinning him in.

“Okay?” Rahjim checks.

“Yeah,” Shiro says.

Rahjim leans over Shiro’s shoulder so Shiro can lift his chin up for them to kiss. It loosens the last dredges of ice in Shiro’s core. He wants to melt into Rahjim’s touch completely.

“Hands here, Earthling,” Rahjim instructs, in his low voice he’s using for the role play, “I have to inspect you.”

Shiro braces his hands on the rail, and tilts his hips back to grind his ass against Rahjim. He puts on his airy, high-pitched voice again, “Oh, Mr. Alien! What could you possibly want from me?”

“I’m going to—” Rahjim stops to clear his voice, “to—” he snorts, “to probe—”

Rahjim laughs so hard that he has to step back and brace his hands on his thighs while he doubles over. Shiro laughs out loud, and slumps against the railing.

“It’s not that funny!” Shiro points out.

“It’s ridiculous!” Rahjim laughs, “your voice! Probe! If there was _ever_ an unsexy word.”

“Unsexy?” Shiro repeats.

Rahjim rolls his eyes while Shiro smirks at him.

“Cheeky,” Rahjim scolds, and he’s able to compose himself.

“We can go inside,” Shiro says, “if that’s easier on you.”

“I don’t think so,” Rahjim says. He spins his finger in a lazy circle, directing Shiro to turn around again. Shiro takes up his position, hands braced on the railing, and pushes his ass out.

“Mr. Alien!” Shiro pleads, voice breathless and high, “I have no money—”

He’s stopped when Rahjim gives him a soft slap on the ass. It’s just enough to jolt him, though it doesn’t sting. Shiro bites his lip to stop laughing.

“Enough talking, Earthling,” Rahjim says, “I’ve come here to study you. And I have to be thorough. This will take a while.”

He runs his hand up Shiro’s back, and settles between Shiro’s shoulder blades. He’s being careful not to grip Shiro anywhere near his neck— which is another trigger area for him. Rahjim leans in to kiss the side of Shiro’s throat.

“Tell me if anything makes you uncomfortable,” he whispers.

“Okay,” Shiro agrees.

One of Rahjim’s hands slides across Shiro’s chest, pressing enough to drag the fabric of his robe across his nipples. Shiro hums happily and arches into the touch. Rahjim grips him by the hip to grind up against him. He presses his mouth to Shiro’s throat and sucks hard. Shiro forgot how much Rahjim liked marking him up, and he gasps out loud.

It’s scandalous to be touching like this out on the deck. They’re completely in the open. Anyone could sail or swim by— Shiro actually isn’t sure if anyone else lives on this island or not— but they’re in plain sight.

“This is like last night,” Rahjim notes as he grinds against Shiro, “and you liked that a lot.”

“I’d like it more with less clothes this time,” Shiro says.

“I can do that,” Rahjim says.

Shiro feels a tug at his waist, and then the sash holding his robe together is gone and the robe is falling open. He’s naked underneath! Shiro pulls his hands off the rail to hold the robe closed.

“Hey!” he shouts, more in shock than outrage.

Rahjim laughs and steps back. He unties the sash at his waist, and then lets his robe slide off his shoulders and fall around his ankles. Shiro would love to drink in the sight of him, but there’s more pressing matters sounding alarms in his brain.

“Rahjim!” Shiro hisses, “you’re— get inside!”

Rahjim gives Shiro a curious look, “Are you being shy?”

“You’re naked!” Shiro points out.

“I am. That’s the point,” Rahjim agrees.

“Outside!” Shiro explains, sweeping his arm wide to the horizon beyond them, “someone could see!”

Rahjim’s eyes widen, and he laughs, “Oh, no, no one will see. We’re alone here.”

He steps closer to Shiro, and places his hands over Shiro’s, “But it’s a fun thrill to imagine getting caught, isn’t it?”

“We’re alone?” Shiro repeats.

“Private island,” Rahjim assures him, and tugs at Shiro’s robe so it slides off of his shoulders, “and the bay faces the open ocean. No one will come here unless they’re looking for us, and I have no appointments. We’re alone. Okay?”

Shiro’s learned that Rahjim is sensible about things, and a very smart man. He’s also far more sexual courageous than Shiro ever thought anyone could be, and is constantly pushing Shiro’s limits. And Shiro usually likes the results.

Shiro lets out a shaky breath, “Okay,” he agrees. He lets his robe go, and feels it slide off of him to pool at his feet. The sun immediately warms all the skin he was previously hiding.

Rahjim’s eyes crinkle when he smiles, “You’re so handsome,” he says.

They kiss again. Shiro feels _wrong_ in the sense that everything in his brain is telling him he should not be feeling the breeze where he’s feeling the breeze. He should be trying to cover up.

Rahjim turns him around again, and Shiro places his hands on the rail. Rahjim drapes over his back and Shiro can’t stop the whine he lets out the instant Rahjim presses his teeth to Shiro’s throat.

Shiro tightens his grip on the railing and rides out the spike of arousal. He shifts his feet a little wider, letting Rahjim lean over him more. Their height difference makes it hard for Shiro to grind up against Rahjim’s groin, but he’s going to get points for trying.

Rahjim brings up two hands to wrap around Shiro’s front, and Shiro drops his chin to watch. He’s ready for it, knows it’s coming, but when Rahjim pinches both of his nipples, and tugs gently, as he sucks a new hickey into Shiro’s neck it still makes Shiro gasp.

“Did you like that, Earthling?” Rahjim asks.

“Mr Alien—” Shiro starts, but Rahjim pinches and tugs again and he can’t speak for a moment.

“You should call me Master,” Rahjim suggests. It’s not in his role play voice so Shiro decides if he wants to or not. It’s not something he’d ever do in real life, but this is just pretend. And it fits the theme they’re going with.

“Master,” Shiro pleads in his silly, breathless voice, and he feels Rahjim’s other two hands go tight on his hips, “Master what are you doing?”

“I have to test your body to see if it’s strong enough to handle my probe,” Rahjim says. Shiro bites his tongue to keep from laughing.

“Probe me?” Shiro gasps dramatically, “oh, Master, you can’t! I’ve never been probed before!”

When Shiro glances up at Rahjim, he gets a confused look.

“Why is that important?” Rahjim asks.

“Go with it,” Shiro tells him, “it’s a human thing.”

“Ah,” Rahjim realizes, “the possessiveness! Yes, okay.”

Rahjim clears his throat, “I’ll be the only one you’ll ever have,” he growls.

Shiro was expecting the line to be silly. He almost loses his grip and stumbles forwards with how turned on he gets. Rahjim chuckles and pulls Shiro back by the hips.

“After me you won’t settle for anyone else,” Rahjim says.

The wind picks up briefly and it’s chilly between his legs. Shiro instinctively brings his knees together and tries to cover himself. He still can’t believe he’s here, outside, and naked in easy view of anyone who would be passing by.

“Focus on me,” Rahjim reminds him, “I’m the only one here with you.”

Shiro nods, and Rahjim kisses the slope of his shoulder.

“Earthling,” he orders, “show me where to touch you.”

Shiro brings his left hand to touch one of Rahjim’s on his chest, “This is good Master, but if you want more…”

Shiro reaches down behind himself with his right hand to grab a handful of his own ass to expose himself, “then this is where you’ll have to probe me.”

Rahjim presses his face into Shiro’s shoulder for a second, and Shiro can feel him shaking as he tries not to laugh.

“It’s not that funny,” Shiro reminds him.

Rahjim pinches his nipple in reply.

“Humans are weird,” Rahjim says, and Shiro can’t tell if it’s part of the play or not, “but I’ll have to inspect further if you can handle me.”

Shiro’s been dreaming about Rahjim fingering him so often that he can’t believe he hasn’t broken down and begged for it. Sitting in Rahjim’s lap, up in the cockpit that first time, while Rahjim had zeroed in on his prostate and left Shiro writhing and incoherent is still one of Shiro’s favorite memories of their night together.

Shiro can feel his balls tighten in anticipation.

“You showered this morning?” Rahjim asks, breaking character for sure this time.

“All clean,” Shiro assures him.

“I’ve been dreaming of this,” Rahjim says, “kiss me one more time.”

It’s not cohesive to the game they’re playing, but Shiro can never say no to kissing Rahjim. He loves the smell of him, the firm press of his mouth. The slide of his tongue, and then the sensation of his second filling and stimulating Shiro’s mouth. It’s hungry, a little sloppy, and intoxicating. They break for short breaths and lose track of time. Shiro’s lower back presses against the rail as Rahjim leans over him, one hand gripping the longer hair of Shiro’s haircut, another thumb running hard circles over Shiro’s nipple. Shiro thinks he could get hard from this alone.

Rahjim pulls away with a reluctant sigh, “Resume your position,” he orders.

“Master, be gentle,” Shiro taunts, “I’ve never let anyone do this before.”

He braces against the railing, and is surprised when Rahjim pushes him forwards rather than having Shiro bend over.

“Can you hop up on that bar,” Rahjim asks, “it’ll be easier if we can get the right angle.”

There’s a gap between the bars of the railing, and the wood frame. Shiro’s just small enough— in comparison— that he can fit the balls of his feet on the frame for a solid stance. It puts him up high enough now that Rahjim could grind against his ass properly, or, Shiro realizes, they could have sex like this. Shiro feels too far up and off-balance that he’s pretty sure he’d topple over and fall to his death if Rahjim thrusts too hard.

It makes him a little nervous.

“Okay?” Rahjim checks in.

“It’s high,” Shiro notes. Standing this tall also means his groin is very, very visible between the bars.

“I’ll go slow,” Rahjim promises.

He kisses the top of Shiro’s spine, and works his way down. Shiro just wants to feel his fingers inside of him already. He wants to close his eyes, or look down at what Rahjim’s doing, but he can’t take his eyes off of the horizon in case he spots anyone coming. Shiro thinks he’d rather die than get caught like this.

Rahjim spreads his ass and Shiro shivers in anticipation. He grips the railing tight. It’s finally happening.

He’s not prepared for the feeling of Rahjim’s face against him, and then the hot, wet slide of Rahjim’s tongues pressing inside of him.

Shiro nearly doubles over, and it’s only the grip of his right hand, and Rahjim’s hands on his thighs, that keep him from falling.

Shiro gasps, “Rahj—”

And then the two tongues are working to stretch him, pressing against and inside of him. He can feel the burn of Rahjim’s second tongue starting and it’s shooting a constant stream of ‘Yes! Yes! Yes!’ to Shiro’s brain.

Shiro can’t keep his eyes open. He’s staring ahead, mouth open as he pants, but he’s not seeing the ocean. Any sort of capacity he had for being a functional, rational human being went out the window the instant Rahjim decided to eat him out.

Rahjim pulls off of him only to worry at the skin on Shiro’s inner thighs with his teeth, and suck hot red marks. Shiro can barely stay standing. His legs are shaking, his knuckles are white. He gives up trying to use his left hand— he can’t hold onto anything with it, and uses it as a gag. He bites down on his knuckles to try and stem the flow of wanton moans and whimpers that Rahjim is bringing out of him.

Rahjim holds Shiro by the thighs to keep him steady, and by the hips to pull him back so Shiro’s nearly sitting on his face. Shiro can’t think— he’s not sure— no, he’s sure. No one has ever done this to him before. No one has ever suggested it. This just— this has never been on his radar. He can’t believe how good it feels.

How long Rahjim keeps him like that, Shiro’s not sure. By the time Rahjim pulls off of him, and places a chaste kiss to the base of Shiro’s spine, Shiro’s legs ache from holding himself up, and his jaw hurts from trying not to scream. He blinks tears out of his eyes.

“I think you will suffice, Earthling,” Rahjim says. He doesn’t take his hands off of Shiro as he stands. Shiro steps off of the bar and then slumps forwards, using the railing to stay standing.

Rahjim slides a hand under Shiro’s chin, lifts his face so they’re making eye contact.

“Okay?” he checks.

Shiro doesn’t know if it’s acceptable to admit that he loved it. Is that wrong? What does that make him?

He smiles and nods anyways.

Rahjim takes Shiro by the hand and guides him back to the bench.

“Now, Earthling, we will move onto the next round of my experiment,” Rahjim declares.

He sits down, facing Shiro, and Shiro catches the shine of slick on Rahjim’s thighs.

Shiro almost drops to his knees so he can return the favor for Rahjim. Instead, Rahjim pulls his feet up onto the bench and lays down. Just for show, he folds his hands behind his head like he’s lounging, and then as Shiro watches, Rahjim lets his dick slide out of its sheath.

Shiro wrinkles his nose when he grins, “Show off,” he teases.

“It’s time for the endurance test!” Rahjim announces, “I have to test your athletic capabilities.”

“Just that?” Shiro asks.

“This is only the beginning of your probing,” Rahjim promises, “now hop up.”

Rahjim holds out a hand and chivalrously helps Shiro climb up on the bench. They’re at a height where they can see clearly over the railing, and be spotted as well. Shiro has goosebumps.

“Since this is your first time, Earthling, I suppose I’ll go easy on you,” Rahjim says, “in the future, I expect you to prepare yourself for me.”

 _As if_ , Shiro snorts. Rahjim loves foreplay too much.

“Thank you Master,” Shiro says. He straddles Rahjim’s thighs, facing him. His attention is completely on Rahjim’s cock. He’s seen it once or twice during their rounds of phone sex, but it’s not the same as having it right in front of him.

The ridges that spiral down the length of the tentacle shape, the bumps that secrete the slick. The tapered tip, leading down to the thick base. Shiro loves this dick. He was sore for days after their one night stand. And every night that ache made him aroused all over again. He’s not going to survive a week of this.

“Master it’s too big,” Shiro protests. He reaches forwards with his left hand, lets Rahjim’s cock curl around his wrist when he grips it halfway down, “it won’t fit in me!”

“You’ll take it all,” Rahjim orders, “because I abducted you for this!”

Shiro shoots Rahjim a grin, and Rahjim breaks character to smile back.

“How long do I have to keep this up?” Rahjim asks.

“You’re not enjoying it?” Shiro replies.

“Are you?” Rahjim asks.

“Of course,” Shiro says. Really, he just likes the deep voice Rahjim is using. Everything else is hilarious.

Rahjim grabs a throw pillow to stuff behind his head, popping him up, “Well then, Earthling, let us proceed with the probing.”

Shiro debates for a moment turning around, so Rahjim can watch as Shiro takes him in. Rahjim quickly corrects him, “I want to see your face.” So instead he shimmies up so his thighs are bracketing Rahjim’s waist, and reaches down between his legs to find the base of Rahjim’s cock.

The tip of it curls and Shiro can feel it pressing against his inner thigh. He drags his hand up Rahjim’s length, until he’s holding it just under the tip, and guides Rahjim to where he needs to be.

Rahjim is slick, and the tip of his dick is slender like a finger— or a tongue. He easily presses into Shiro with little resistance. Shiro lets out a breathy exhale. Finally! Finally it’s happening.

“Oh, Master, you’re so big,” Shiro purrs, “you’re filling me right up.”

Shiro sinks down as Rahjim pushes up. The stretch of Rahjim sliding into him increases from the width of a finger to two, three, more. Shiro’s mouth falls open, though he tries not to break eye contact with Rahjim. He has to pause a few times when the intensity gets to be too much, and his body needs to adjust.

“Are you good?” Rahjim checks in.

Shiro nods, “I’ve been dreaming of this.”

“Me too,” Rahjim agrees.

Rahjim folds one set of hands over his chest, the other go behind his head again. He’s the picture of nonchalance and indifference.

“Go on then,” he instructs, “show me what Earthlings can do.”

Shiro braces his hands on Rahjim’s stomach, mindful of the sensitive stripe of skin down his center, and raises himself up enough to feel Rahjim’s cock begin to pull out of him, and then he lowers himself down. It’s more of a team effort than Rahjim is letting on, since Rahjim has to be keeping himself firm enough for Shiro to move like this, but Shiro doesn’t call him on it.

It’s everything Shiro remembered it could be. He’s so full. He’s so fantastically full. Rahjim is slick, sliding in and out without any pain, and yet he’s stretching Shiro right to the brim. Shiro’s still tingling and buzzing from Rahjim’s second tongue, and the intensity of the two sensations on top of one another make it hard to concentrate.

“I don’t think I’ll ever let you go,” Rahjim says, “I like the feel of you too much.”

It’s part of the game, but it sounds sincere enough that Shiro has to look away embarrassedly. He’s blushing— from that! From the thought that Rahjim likes him enough to want him around. Which is the truth, that’s why Shiro’s here after all, but hearing it out loud feels more intimate and risque than having sex out in the open, under the sun, for everyone to see.

“Touch yourself,” Rahjim orders, “come on my cock.”

Shiro had almost forgotten about himself. His own dick is full and leaking as Shiro bounces himself on Rahjim’s cock. After a lot of agonizing, Shiro had decided against completely shaving and instead he’s trimmed and made himself much more presentable than he was the last time he had sex with Rahjim. It makes him a little proud to be on display like this, so Rahjim can appreciate the results of Shiro practicing what felt like extreme yoga in the showers in order to look this good.

His left hand is still an unusual feeling around his dick, but Shiro no longer thinks it feels like a stranger is touching him. He grips himself hard around the base, and slides his hand up so he can run his thump over the head of his cock. His whole body shudders and he fights to keep from getting slack-jawed. Rahjim wants a show.

Shiro strokes himself at a reasonable pace, matching the rise and fall of his thighs. He uses his right hand to pinch and tease at his nipples that Rahjim left sensitive and erect. Shiro notices Rahjim slowly stroking the soft skin down his middle with one hand as he watches Shiro touching himself.

Shiro wants to say something more, to keep up the charade of the game, but he can’t assemble a completely coherent thought. Every time he thinks he has one, he looks into Rahjim’s enamored face and gets lost in the fact that he’s completely on display, is being _enjoyed_ for his body, for who he is, and for what he’s doing to himself.

His thighs are starting to burn from the workout. Shiro’s not sure how much longer he can keep this up. He starts jerking himself off faster, a little harder. He can’t look away from Rahjim. Every time they’ve had phone sex, Shiro has come while Rahjim’s looking at him. As much as he hates to admit it, Shiro loves having all of Rahjim’s attention on him.

“You’re beautiful,” Rahjim gasps, “if only you could see yourself. The sun— your flush, your _eyes_. I don’t want this to end.”

Shiro’s shocked into sitting down, and whimpers as he bottoms out on Rahjim’s cock. He squeezes himself tight, riding the wave of pleasure. He could almost come from that alone.

He pants heavily, and plants his right hand on Rahjim’s waist as he tries to lift himself up. His legs are shaking with the effort.

Rahjim sits up, and his hands settle on Shiro’s hips, and cupping Shiro’s face between his other hands.

“Can I help?” Rahjim asks.

Shiro nods, and decides to get the last word, “Please, Master! Please let me come.”

Rahjim gasps softly at that, and he politely doesn’t kiss Shiro, but he leans forwards to knock their foreheads together. Shiro feels Rahjim’s cock twist inside of him, and for a moment it’s uncomfortable, but not unpleasant, and then Rahjim’s dragging _hard_ across his prostate.

Rahjim sinks his fingertips into Shiro’s skin, holding him tightly, as he twists and rubs his cock against that spot inside of Shiro. Shiro wants to writhe, to squirm, but he’s held steady in Rahjim’s grip. All he can do is hold onto Rahjim with his right hand, and keep stroking himself with his left.

“That’s it, that’s right,” Rahjim growls. Shiro can’t tell if it’s his play voice or not, but it’s hot enough that he doesn’t care, “come for me.”

Shiro thinks Rahjim keeps talking. He’s sure he can feel the vibration of Rahjim’s voice, but his mind can’t focus long enough between Rahjim’s firm strokes to his prostate to think up any words in response. He can feel the heat of Rahjim’s breath at his ear, as Rahjim keeps whispering obscene things to him. The firm grips of Rahjim’s hands all over his body. The force of Rahjim inside of him, lighting him up with every movement.

Shiro lasts longer than he thought he could. He comes with a shout, and Rahjim holds him tight.

Rahjim makes no efforts to move as Shiro comes down from his orgasm. He’s taken over jerking Shiro off, coaxing out whatever Shiro’s body has to offer.

“You feel so good,” Rahjim rumbles, and kisses Shiro’s temple. Shiro hums a pleased response. He turns and nuzzles his face into Rahjim’s palm at his cheek. Rahjim’s other hand pets through his sweaty hair, down Shiro’s neck to his chest. It’s soothing. He likes that.

“Did you mean it?” Rahjim asks.

Shiro can barely blink his eyes open to look up at him.

“Did I… what?” he asks.

“You called me master when you came,” Rahjim grins, “is there something you want to tell me?”

Shiro rolls his eyes. If he says anything, he usually says Rahjim’s name. He must have been trying to think of one more line before it was all over.

“It was just part of the game,” Shiro shrugs.

Rahjim leans back and nods, “Well, you might want to tell that to our audience.”

Shiro’s hands fly to cover himself and he sits up straight, looking around for whoever snuck up on them. What did they see? Was he actually loud enough for someone to _hear_ him?

Rahjim’s laughing.

Shiro turns back to scowl at him.

“I’m sorry,” Rahjim says. He takes Shiro’s hands between his own and holds them gently, “we’re alone, I promise.”

Shiro sighs, “I thought— I don’t know what I was going to do. Have a heart attack?”

“What’s life without some thrills? Is it really the worst thing?” Rahjim presses.

“It’s embarrassing!” Shiro says, “this is— this is private stuff!”

“Prude,” Rahjim teases, but he brings Shiro’s hands up to kiss his knuckles, “I’ll fix that too.”

Shiro can’t help the fondness in his chest he feels at Rahjim. And he knows Rahjim can feel it too.

“Would you like another round?” Rahjim asks.

Shiro wipes the sweat off of his forehead. His bangs are sticking to his skin.

“Actually… I’m really hot,” he admits, “I need to cool down.”

Rahjim nods, “Then I’ll brush my teeth. I want to kiss you in the waves.”

“Can we swim? In the ocean?” Shiro asks. He’d assumed that because of the pool, the ocean wasn’t an option for them.

“Of course,” Rahjim says, “I’ve even got a pair of seajets we can have some fun with.”

“Seajets?” Shiro echoes.

“You’ll like them,” Rahjim assures him, “you go really fast.”

“Nice,” Shiro grins, “I’ll need to borrow some shorts though. I don’t know if mine are any good for the water.”

“Shorts?” Rahjim furrows his brow.

“For swimming,” Shiro says, “what do you wear in the water?”

“Why would you wear _anything_ in the water?” Rahjim asks.

Shiro’s eyes go wide, “You swim naked?”

“Your clothes would get wet!” Rahjim protests.

“You’re an exhibitionist!” Shiro laughs, “you pervert!”

“Are all humans this prudish?” Rahjim asks.

Their movement causes Rahjim’s cock to shift inside of Shiro. He’s sensitive from his orgasm still, and whimpers.

Rahjim pets Shiro’s thighs, “You sure you don’t want me to come in you before we go?”

“I’m hot. You couldn’t come before I overheat,” Shiro challenges, “because I want to get in the water now.”

“If I come right away, you have to swim without clothes on,” Rahjim wagers.

“I’m going to count to ten, and when you don’t come, then…” Shiro trails off, unsure of what he wants to barter with against Rahjim.

“If you win I’ll give you a massage,” Rahjim offers, “back, arms, legs and prostate, all included.”

“Wouldn’t you do that anyways?” Shiro asks.

“Of course,” Rahjim says, “but you’d never ask for it.”

Shiro considers for a moment. Rahjim’s probably right.

“Deal,” Shiro says, and then, “one!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rahjim never disappoints ;)
> 
> [reminder: day 3 will NOT be posted tomorrow! we're entering Dem's usual 'post as she finishes' updating schedule]


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is only... a year late... woops.
> 
> Next chapter is projected to be up for Shiro's birthday!!!!
> 
> There's lots of subtle things being set up here, mostly things that Shiro isn't quite aware of. Wonder if you can start to guess the change that's coming for them ;)) (hint, it's not what Shiro thinks it is)
> 
> This is entirely unbeta'd. 
> 
> Enjoy!

“Mmm,” Shiro comes into consciousness slowly. He feels heavy, warm, and like his skin is too tight. Something is good, but he can’t figure it out—

Rahjim’s hot mouth surrounds his cock as Rahjim sucks lightly and Shiro’s mouth falls open with a gasp.

Shiro blinks his eyes open and immediately regrets it. He feels, more than hears, Rahjim’s laugh.

“Bright,” Shiro groans. Rahjim pulls off of Shiro’s cock slowly, and licks at the tip.

“Good morning,” Rahjim says. The bed dips as Shiro feels Rahjim’s arms around his waist, bracing the Prince so he can lean up and kiss Shiro’s jaw. Shiro turns his head to find his lips, and gasps into the kiss as one of Rahjim’s hands strokes his cock. Shiro doesn’t even know if he’s hard or not— he’s barely awake.

“You can keep sleeping if you’d like,” Rahjim says, and kisses Shiro’s throat. Shiro falls lax into the bed, dropping his head back onto the pillow. He can feel Rahjim moving back down him, kissing and tasting his body. It’s like Shiro’s playing catch-up with what he’s feeling. All of the arousal and enjoyment is still hitting him. It’s disorienting.

Rahjim gets back to his cock and swallows Shiro down effortlessly, and then Shiro feels both of his tongues on him. He whimpers, and rolls his head from side to side as his brain struggles to get with the program. There’s so much pleasure, he can barely tell where it’s all coming from.

This is a pretty nice way to be woken up.

Rahjim bobs his head, working his tongues and getting his fingers to all of the sensitive areas he can reach. He’s soft, all light touches, and it’s enough to bring Shiro’s knees up around Rahjim’s ears. Shiro gets his arms over his head, and stretches out, splaying his fingers, and points his toes to the end of the bed. He’s pleasantly sore in all the right places, but his body feels weighted like he’s been rung out and left to dry.

He’s tired, Shiro realizes. He’s still so tired even after a long sleep.

They’d been playing in the water all afternoon, after Shiro’s panic attack. They’d eaten well, and gone to bed early. Shiro had fallen asleep so fast, and hasn’t slept this deeply in a long time. How can he be tired?

The more he thinks about it, the more the feeling solidifies. He’s so tired that it’s almost an ache. Like someone scooped out his insides and left him hollow. It starts to chase away the good feeling.

“Rahjim,” he says. His voice feels brittle.

Rahjim pulls off of him again, but strokes Shiro’s half-hard erection with one hand, “Yes?”

“I’m… I’m tired,” Shiro says.

“Rest, then,” Rahjim says softly, “I’ll take care of you.”

Shiro shakes his head, “No it— it’s everywhere.”

Rahjim’s hand stills, and Shiro manages to crack an eye open. Rahjim is between Shiro’s legs, lips wet from blowing Shiro and his hair tied back. He’s studying Shiro closely.

“Are you okay?” Rahjim finally asks.

Shiro doesn’t even know how he feels, “Maybe?”

“Should I stop?” Rahjim asks.

Rahjim waits while Shiro thinks about it. He loves Rahjim’s mouth on him— especially on his cock with Rahjim’s two tongues and overwhelming enthusiasm. But the normal burst of arousal Shiro feels when he thinks about that doesn’t happen. It’s all felt good so far. He could probably get into it, he _knows_ Rahjim will be good to him. Shiro did come here to have lots of sex after all. Maybe he should say—

“You’re feeling flustered,” Rahjim says, “just be honest.”

Shiro shakes his head slightly, “Not— not right now.”

“Okay,” Rahjim says, “okay.”

He crawls forwards to come lay down beside Shiro. Rahjim grabs the blanket they’d kicked aside and pulls it over Shiro, tucking him in.

“I’m sorry,” Shiro mumbles.

Rahjim shushes him, “Nothing to be sorry for.”

“It felt nice,” Shiro explains, “I just… I’m… drained.”

“I’m not surprised,” Rahjim says, “you had an eventful day.”

“I was fine after it,” Shiro argues. He had felt so alive and energized, speeding around on the jet ski’s and then playing around in the shallows and having Rahjim toss him into oncoming waves. Shiro hasn’t felt that light and delighted in so long. He thinks it might have been the best he’s felt since Ulaz freed him from the Galra.

He got an afternoon of happiness, and now he’s suffering for it.

“Sometimes it takes time to catch up,” Rahjim says. He’s always so patient. He holds out a hand, waiting for invitation. Shiro scooches closer, and Rahjim runs his hand up and down Shiro’s side soothingly.

“I hate this,” Shiro mutters.

“It’s just a part of recovery,” Rahjim says, “besides, is there anywhere better you could be for some rest and relaxing?”

He does have a point. Shiro nods in agreement.

Rahjim brings his hand up to brush Shiro’s bangs back so he can lean in and kiss Shiro’s forehead.

“How about breakfast?” he offers.

Part of Shiro wants to sleep. He feels so heavy that he doesn’t know if he can move, let alone think. But Rahjim’s awake, and Shiro just wants to be near Rahjim.

“Sounds good,” Shiro mumbles.

 

* * *

 

Shiro finds it hard to even sit up, and he’s terrified by how hollow and weak he feels and it makes him start panicking about being broken. Rahjim pulls him back down and holds him close until Shiro can breathe normally again. And then Rahjim insists on bundling him up and carrying Shiro downstairs himself.

Considering the fact that Rahjim seems to be the only thing that helps Shiro get through all of his neuroses, and that he’s so worn out just from being awake, Shiro lets Rahjim baby him. Just this once.

Rahjim tucks Shiro up on a couch downstairs, with a pillow under his head and an extra blanket on top of him. Rahjim makes sure Shiro’s toes are covered, and kisses his cheek before he promises to make something tasty.

Shiro watches him work through half-lidded eyes. He’s thinking about maybe just falling asleep again. Maybe he’ll wake up in his right mind. Like turning something off and on again to make it work. He just needs a reset.

Or maybe it’s the sex, he thinks. He’s just not used to having sex this regularly again, or to be getting it so good. Then again, Shiro thinks back to earlier when Rahjim was waking him up to what was promising to be some _great_ sex, and then Shiro turned it down. After all the fuss he’d made about wanting to have lots of sex, now he didn’t want any. Rahjim must be so frustrated with him.

Shiro’s distracted for a moment when music starts up. Rahjim’s turned on a radio of some kind— Shiro’s not sure where it is, but the sound is coming from the kitchen where Rahjim has his back to Shiro as he cooks. He’s put his hair up in a messy bun, and he’s wearing an apron, no shirt, and a flowing skirt. Rahjim’s moving side-to-side in small motions, in tune to the beat.

Shiro lets out a long breath. No, Rahjim’s not frustrated with him. That’s just Shiro assuming the worst. All evidence points to the opposite. Rahjim’s going to great lengths to make sure Shiro is well taken care of. Which means that Shiro needs to pull it together to stop being such a shitty guest and— no, no. Shiro shakes his head. Wow. He’s having a bad day for negative thoughts.

_Focus on something positive_ , Shiro tells himself. No one wants to be around a miserable depressed person. The truth. What’s the truth?

Rahjim’s humming faintly, and Shiro can hear the sizzle of something frying on the stove. Shiro’s warm and tucked in, all thanks to Rahjim. He’s somewhere safe, and he could just go back to sleep if he wanted and it wouldn’t be a problem. He’s been having great sex, and eating amazing foods cooked just for him. And now Rahjim is cooking him breakfast and cuddling him because Shiro’s having a rough start to the day.

Shiro watches the muscles in Rahjim’s back as he stirs the food. He’s thought about their one night stand a lot in the time they’ve been apart, and about Rahjim specifically. Rahjim is such a good, honest and caring person. Shiro can’t imagine where he’d be without having had Rahjim tell him he was worthy of being loved. And making Shiro believe it. Rahjim’s one of the most amazing people Shiro’s ever known. Shiro just wants to soak up his attention and all of his affections.

And then he _wanted_ Shiro to be his partner while he was on vacation from a job that must be a constant stress for him. And on said vacation, he’s spending a lot of time taking care of Shiro and making sure that Shiro’s happy and has all of his needs met.

Shiro’s so happy he met him. He’s so happy he said yes, in that first night together. Shiro would be someone entirely different, and probably a lot more fractured, if Rahjim hadn’t shown him that he wasn’t completely broken to begin with.

Rahjim pauses, and glances over his shoulder. He looks curious.

“What happened?” he asks.

Shiro shrugs, “What?”

“You’re happiness— it’s glowing,” Rahjim says, and he grins, “is it my singing?”

Shiro pushes himself upright, though he keeps himself wrapped up, “No it’s… I was thinking about you. It’s just… thank you. For everything.”

Rahjim turns the stove down, and comes to join Shiro on the couch.

“Thank you for being here,” he says, “it makes me happy just to look at you.”

Shiro feels bashful, and looks away as he smiles, “I still can’t believe that you picked _me_ to come with you.”

Rahjim furrows his brows, “Why?”

Shiro shrugs, and loosely gestures to himself before pulling the blanket closed again, “I mean I’m… I’m not vacation material, you know? I’m kind of a hassle with all my shit and hard to— ow!”

Shiro rubs at his arm where Rahjim pinched him through the blanket. He’s knocked over as Rahjim shoves him down and lays on top of him.

“You’re not a burden,” Rahjim insists, “stop thinking like that. I wanted you here because I love you and I love spending time with you.”

Shiro’s stomach does a little flip as Rahjim says ‘I love you’. He _knows_ it’s in the alien way, but it’s so strange to have someone say it about him anyways. In the back of his mind, Shiro thinks it feels good to have someone say it to him. That someone who likes him and wants to kiss him says _I love you_ to him.

“Really?” Shiro asks. Just to be sure.

“Yes,” Rahjim says, and holds Shiro tightly in all four of his arms, “well, maybe I’ve been a little underhanded in my motives.”

“You want me for my body?” Shiro guesses.

Rahjim chuckles, “That, of course, and because I love how your happiness feels— it’s intoxicating. And I’ll do a lot of nefarious things to make you happy— but just for my benefit. And you’re going to have to deal with it.”

“I am at your mercy,” Shiro agrees. Rahjim’s heavy, but not heavy enough to be a problem. In fact, Shiro thinks he could fall asleep with Rahjim’s weight on him. It’s so much more secure, and Shiro hasn’t realized how lonely he was until now, when he’s in constant contact with Rahjim.

“Don’t wallow,” Rahjim whispers, “you were shining so bright. Stay like that.”

“It’s hard,” Shiro admits, “so thank you. For loving me. It helps.”

Rahjim kisses his cheek, and then freezes.

“The food!” he gasps, and leaps off of Shiro to run for the stove.

 

* * *

 

Shiro shuffles over to the island to eat. He’s trying to continue riding the nice feeling he gets when Rahjim takes care of him, so he keeps the blanket as tucked around him as he can. Shiro’s never been one to be taken care of, but from experience he knows that it makes Rahjim happy, and Shiro likes it when Rahjim’s happy.

Today they’re eating something similar to a stir fry, but it’s sweet _and_ savory. Shiro couldn’t begin to name any of the ingredients, so he doesn’t put too much thought into it. It’s saucy and flavorful. Rahjim complains that it’s a little burned, and insists on throwing it all away and re-cooking it, but Shiro’s hungry _now_ and doesn’t want to waste the food.

“I’m stubborn,” Shiro says proudly.

“You are,” Rahjim agrees. He’s sitting close enough that their knees touch. The words should be teasing, but they sound so fond that Shiro shoves another bite into his mouth to keep from spitting out something stupid because of how his heart is fluttering.

“I think we’ll take it easy today,” Rahjim says, “how does that sound?”

Shiro nods in agreement, “I’m okay with that.” As if on cue he has to fight the urge to yawn. The food was amazing, but his whole body still feels like one big bruise. 

“Would you like to go back to bed?” Rahjim asks.

“Are you coming too?” Shiro flirts.

Rahjim laughs, “If that’s what you want.”

Shiro scrutinizes him, “But what do you want to do?”

“I was hoping to check up on that cruiser I gave you at some point this week. I wanted to make sure it’s still in good condition. But that can wait if you need me.”

Shiro shakes his head, “I… I don’t think I want to have sex right now.”

“You can sleep in a bed too, you know,” Rahjim teases.

Shiro rolls his eyes, and fiddles with his fork, “If it’s okay, I don’t really want to be alone right now.”

Rahjim nods like it makes perfect sense, “You’re welcome to join me— but you have to sit and relax. I don’t want you pushing yourself.”

“I’m not going to break,” Shiro groans. He’s been enjoying being pampered— but coddling? That’s too far.

“Do it for me. I’ll make you a nice drink, you can watch me work and put your feet in the sand,” Rahjim says.

Shiro wants to put up more resistance, but he’s _tired_ all over, and it’s so much easier to let Rahjim take charge.

“Yes Sir,” Shiro jokes.

Rahjim smiles wide, “I like the sound of that.”

Shiro huffs a laugh and looks away. He hears movement, and just as he turns back, he sees Rahjim grab Shiro’s empty plate.

“Hey!”

“Sit down,” Rahjim orders, moving out of range so Shiro can’t grab him, “you’re my guest.”

“I can do my own dishes,” Shiro insists.

“I know,” Rahjim agrees, “but let me do this for you.”

Shiro stays still. He’s fighting with himself. He’s not weak and helpless, he can wash his own dishes. He hates being treated like he’s lesser. And yet… what’s wrong with letting people take care of him? Especially when they’re just being kind. It takes a great deal of effort for him to sit back in his chair, “Okay.”

Shiro doesn’t want to admit it’s kind of a relief. Getting up to do anything still feels momentous.

Rahjim leans over and taps a few panels on the wall, which light up under his fingertips. After a moment, music starts playing around the house. Shiro isn’t sure if he could place it to any genre from Earth, and if there’s lyrics he can’t hear it, but Rahjim’s swaying to the sound and nodding his head to the beat. Shiro props his chin up on his hand and watches with a smile. He has it so good here.

The beat changes, picking up, and Shiro’s not sure if it’s a new song or not, but Rahjim does a little shimmy as he turns to grab the pan he cooked with, and Shiro laughs. He’s not trying to be loud, but Rahjim hears him anyways.

“What?” he asks.

“What are you doing?” Shiro teases.

“Dancing!” Rahjim feigns being offended, and shimmies his shoulders, “do humans not dance?”

“We dance,” Shiro says, though he’s not sure why he feels defensive about it.

Rahjim abandons the pan and holds out his hands, “Then show me.”

Shiro shakes his head, he really doesn’t need to dance around the kitchen to prove that humans dance— he’s not even that great of a dancer— but Rahjim’s already come around the island and pulled Shiro out of his chair.

Shiro’s half-tangled int the blankets and falls into Rahjim, and it takes the two of them kicking and twisting to free Shiro, even as Rahjim drags Shiro into the start of some movements.

Shiro tries to follow Rahjim’s movements as best he can, and starts laughing with how hard it is to keep up. His feet still feel like lead, and he can’t catch the beat if his life depended on it.

The song changes again, something slower, and they stop spinning so much and start swaying side-to-side while taking small steps.

Shiro’s a little breathless from all the excitement, and rests his head on Rahjim’s chest. He can feel that Rahjim’s bent his head down, almost resting it on Shiro’s head. One of his hands is on Shiro’s shoulders, another two on Shiro’s waist. The last is holding Shiro’s hand, fingers threaded together.

Shiro closes his eyes and sways with Rahjim. He feels like a broken record, with how much he keeps thinking about how wonderful this all is. How much he likes being close with Rahjim, and how nice it is that Rahjim cares about him. Part of Shiro wonders if it would be this good all the time— if he and Rahjim were, well, if they could be together all the time. How amazing it could be if Rahjim was all his.

“You’re thinking,” Rahjim says softly.

Shiro hums agreement, but waits a moment to elaborate. There’s something he wants to say, on the tip of his tongue, but it feels wrong to say it out loud.

Rahjim takes his silence as an end to the conversation, and tries again, “You should teach me some human dances next—”

“I love being with you,” Shiro blurts out. There. He did it.

Rahjim’s only slightly surprised, “I love being with you too,” he replies. They’re still slow dancing around the kitchen.

Shiro shakes his head. That’s not the right point he was making. His heart beats a little faster and he’s not sure why this is so hard to say, or why it’s so important to say it right now.

“No— I… I love… I love _you_. All of this seems like a dream, but it’s real. You’re real. I can’t imagine not being in love with you.”

Rahjim slows them to a stop, and Shiro wants to be anywhere but right close to him right now. His face is heating up. He’s sure that his ears have gone red. That was— they’re just dancing in the kitchen. It’s not like the last time he said ‘I love you’ to Rahjim, after Rahjim had sexed him so hard that Shiro feels a little ruined for anyone else. This is so dumb to be saying this right now. Shiro’s just tired— he shouldn’t be saying anything at all because he’s going to embarrass himself further and—

“Shiro?”

Rahjim tilts Shiro’s head up with a gentle hand under Shiro’s chin. He doesn’t look like he wants to laugh at Shiro.

“Thank you,” Rahjim says.

Shiro rocks up onto his toes to meet him when Rahjim leans in for a kiss.

 

* * *

 

Shiro takes a sip using his brightly colored straw, and then relaxes back in his chair again. He wiggles his toes in the sand, just to feel it, and sighs happily.

Rahjim’s stripped to the waist in the heat, hair re-tied back in a tight bun, and is wiping down some parts that he’s pulled from the ship. He’s got one panel off the bottom so he can reach inside, and a whole table full of tools to work with.

In contrast, Shiro has a chaise longue to sprawl out in that Rahjim carried down from the deck, an umbrella because his shoulders are looking pink after all the sun yesterday, and a delicious drink that Rahjim made him. It even has alcohol in it. Only a little bit because Shiro refuses to be drunk, but, the point stands. He’s officially on vacation.

They’re out on the beach, under the cruiser Shiro flew here in. There’s very little wind, but even still the waves are gently falling into the shore and creating a pleasant background noise.

Rahjim has some oil or goo all over his gloves, and he’s wiped some on his face. Shiro doesn’t think he’s noticed yet.

“This is like a mechanic fantasy come true,” Shiro comments.

Rahjim gives him a confused look, “A what?”

“Human thing,” Shiro elaborates, “we find working people, especially automobile mechanics, to be very attractive.”

Rahjim grins with the knowledge that he’s Hot Shit to humans.

“I’ve been known to rev some engines,” Rahjim jokes. Shiro laughs out loud.

“It’s the uniform,” Shiro says, and takes a moment to excessively drag his gaze up and down Rahjim’s body. He wishes he had sunglasses to pull down to make it more obvious.

Rahjim poses for him, and wiggles his gloved fingers in Shiro’s direction, “I’ll keep it in mind that you like leathers.”

Shiro takes a sip of his drink rather than reply.

Shiro’s actually relieved that Rahjim made him sit for this. He keeps feeling heavy like he’s about to nod off, and the chair is large enough that Shiro can find a comfortable position to doze. He feels absurdly lazy, but then again, these are the orders he’s been given. He’s just following the rules.

Rahjim occasionally talks while he works, explaining some things to Shiro, but there’s a lot of monotonous work that doesn’t require a lot of talking, but needs most of Rahjim’s concentration.

Shiro can’t remember being this… this calm, even before leaving Earth the first time. He was constantly on the go, and in the months leading up to the launch it was a constant string of tests and evaluations and meetings and press conferences. And then now, with Voltron…

It’s nice to just… to just relax. What a concept.

The day is hot enough that Shiro doesn’t even need a blanket, and he feels warm and dozy. Rahjim keeps working away, occasionally muttering to himself, but otherwise focused on his task.

Shiro must fall asleep at some point, because he has a vague recollection of opening his eyes occasionally to find Rahjim in a different spot or a new position, holding a different tool or piece of the ship.

It’s strange to feel this safe, this happy. But it feels so good that Shiro doesn’t want to ruin it by listing all the reasons why he shouldn’t have it. So instead, he lets his heavy eyelids close, and he goes back to his nap.

 

* * *

 

“Would I rather not shower for a week or…?”

“Or not have booze for a month,” Shiro says.

Rahjim grimaces, “Both of those sound _horrible_.”

Shiro laughs, “That’s the point.”

Rahjim frowns, sipping at the drink he stole from Shiro. He’s taken a break from working on the ship, and Shiro woke up from his nap and is finally feeling awake.

“Neither,” Rahjim declares.

“You have to pick one,” Shiro reminds him.

Rahjim groans, “My hair is _awful_ if I don’t bathe often! This is unreasonable!”

“So just go a month without drinking,” Shiro says, “that’s not hard.”

Rahjim snorts, “I have never had a sober month in my life, and I do not intend to start now.”

“So not showering for a week?” Shiro asks.

Rahjim sighs wearily, “I suppose I’ll wear perfume.”

“You’ll ‘start’ wearing?” Shiro teases.

Rahjim rolls his eyes, “I’ll wear _more_.”

Shiro laughs, and accepts the drink as Rahjim hands it back to him. He sips through the straw while Rahjim thinks of a question to ask Shiro.

“Well we’ve both been kidnapped so—”

“You’ve been kidnapped?” Shiro asks.

Rahjim shrugs, “My uncle was not a kind man. He didn’t like that I had a stronger claim than he did.”

“So he kidnapped you?”

“Pirates kidnapped me, technically. Actually, you might like them. The Captain is a good man—”

Shiro furrows his brow and squints at Rahjim, “Did you stay in touch with them? The pirates?”

“Well they helped me overthrow my uncle,” Rahjim says, and he’s grinning so Shiro knows he’s purposefully dropping the information.

Shiro shakes his head, “Fine, fine. Tell me this story. Your uncle hired pirates to kidnap you, but you turned them against him?”

Rahjim winks, “That’s not a ‘would you rather’ question.”

Shiro glares up at him and Rahjim laughs.

“You seem better,” Rahjim comments.

“I feel a lot better,” Shiro confirms, and waves a hand at himself, “more awake. Like, I’m actually here.”

“Okay,” Rahjim says, pretending to be serious, “do you want an up close, or a far away question?”

“Up close?” Shiro asks for clarification. Rahjim takes it for an answer.

Rahjim comes to the chair Shiro’s still laying on, and easily straddles Shiro’s knees, “Would you rather I go down on you here, or, should we try and make it to the house?”

Shiro laughs out loud.

“I can’t promise we’ll make it to the bed,” Rahjim says. He takes Shiro’s drink from him with one hand so he can lean in and kiss him. Shiro brings his hands up to cup the back of Rahjim’s head and draw him in.

“Is this okay?” Rahjim asks quietly.

“Only if you wear the gloves,” Shiro flirts. Rahjim grins, and licks his way into Shiro’s mouth. Shiro’s definitely awake now. He’s getting hot, with arousal starting to pool in his gut. He might even be ready for sex. In fact, Shiro knows he’ll be ready after Rahjim goes down on him.

“Maybe we could make it to a couch,” Shiro suggests.

“Or the table,” Rahjim says, “or the island in the kitchen,” he drops his head to start sucking at Shiro’s neck, and yes, now Shiro is absolutely getting aroused. He loves it when Rahjim’s mouth is on his throat.

“Or the stairs, or maybe we’ll only make it to the door. Or the path to the house,” Rahjim continues.

Shiro wants to laugh at the idea of them, making out in the dirt when there’s a huge mansion just a few steps closer.

“Or maybe right here,” Shiro agrees.

Rahjim sits back to get a confirmation, “Right here? Out in the open?”

They’re right out on the beach, with the only hint of privacy being the wings of the cruiser Rahjim’s been working on above them, or Shiro’s umbrella.

Shiro bites his lip and nods. Yes. Exactly.

“I knew I could corrupt you,” Rahjim laughs.

“You’re a horrible influence,” Shiro teases.

“You flatter me,” Rahjim says. Two of his hands start untying the knot of the belt at Shiro’s waist. He’s wearing the robe Rahjim had made for him. One of Rahjim’s hands slips under the folds of the shirt so he can rub the pad of his thumb across Shiro’s nipple. Shiro gasps and drops his head back.

“Wait,” Shiro says, and Rahjim pauses and sits back to listen, “wait— you said up close or far away? What was the other option?”

“Would you rather have this,” Rahjim rubs his palm across Shiro’s nipple as he talks, “or would you like to show off for me.”

Shiro’s eyebrows raise, “You want me to show off?”

“I told you,” Rahjim says, “this morning. You’re here for my benefit.”

Right. Shiro remembers— Rahjim’s empathetic abilities. He can feel other peoples pleasure.

“You’d like that? Just watching?” Shiro asks.

“Less work for me,” Rahjim shrugs.

“I don’t think you could resist,” Shiro challenges.

Rahjim finishes untying the knot at Shiro’s waist, and opens the robe. Shiro’s not wearing anything underneath. His cock, still laying against his thigh, is getting on its way to being hard.

“Is that a bet?” Rahjim asks.

“What do I get when I win?” Shiro says.

“Whatever you want,” Rahjim promises.

For a split second Shiro imagines having Rahjim come stay with him on the Castleship. Of spending every night together. Coming home from battle, from long meetings, to Rahjim’s warm embrace.

It could never happen. It’s just a fantasy.

“And what’s your wager?” Shiro asks.

Rahjim’s voice is a low growl as he asks, “How do you feel about—”

There’s a loud chiming noise. Rahjim sits back with a frustrated groan.

“One moment,” he says. He turns over a wrist on one hand, and touches the skin there. Immediately a small screen pops up in front of him. Shiro notes he must have some sort of implant there.

Shiro also realizes he’s completely naked and leaps to cover himself.

Rahjim sets a hand on Shiro’s stomach to stop him, “There’s no visuals on our end right now,” he says, “you’re fine.”

Shiro doesn’t relax because Rahjim’s secretary’s face fills the screen.

“I’m on vacation,” Rahjim says pointedly.

“My apologies, Prince. But the Ambassadors are in dire need of your attention,” his secretary says.

“And they can’t wait a few more days?” Rahjim asks, “I’m not to be disturbed. I had everything set up for my absence—”

“And they wanted to call on you _yesterday_ ,” his secretary says, “I’ve been all but physically forcing them out of the halls to slow them down. I am sorry, my Prince, but I can’t placate them.”

Rahjim mutters some curses under his breath. Shiro’s translator doesn’t catch them.

“I have an hour,” Rahjim says, “and I want them all out of the palace when I return.”

“I’ve already started writing reports they’ll have to review when their vacation time comes up,” his secretary says, “they’re very long. And very boring.”

Rahjim laughs, “Have I told you how much I love you?”

Shiro feels a stab of jealousy and struggles to fight it down.

“Not nearly enough, sir,” the secretary says, “I’ll have them prepared. I’m sending you their proposals right now.”

“I will be there shortly,” Rahjim says, and ends the call.

Rahjim covers his face with two hands and groans loudly.

“Rain check?” Shiro confirms.

Rahjim slides his hands away and leans down to curl up against Shiro’s chest, tucking his head under Shiro’s chin.

“I’m sorry,” he says, “Im only going to give them an hour. Maybe. They don’t even deserve that.”

Shiro brings up his hand to find one of Rahjim’s, slides their fingers together, “You’re the leader. I get it, really.”

Rahjim takes a deep breath and exhales slowly, “You do.”

He squeezes Shiro’s hand, and then pulls it up to his face so he can kiss Shiro’s knuckles.

“An hour. And then we have a bet to settle,” he says.

Shiro had nearly forgotten in his panic at almost being caught naked. Whether Rahjim can keep his hands off Shiro while Shiro shows off for him. Showing off, meaning, masturbating for show.

Shiro’s face heats up. Rahjim talks him into the weirdest things.

Rahjim chuckles against him, Shiro feels it more than he hears it.

The Prince lifts his head, “Already thinking about it?”

Before Shiro can answer, Rahjim leans in to kiss him. It’s relatively chaste, only a brush of their lips, but Shiro wants it to go on forever.

“This will be the longest hour of my life,” Rahjim promises as he pulls away.

 

* * *

 

They walk back holding hands. Shiro even leaves his robe untied, feeling a little braver about being naked in the sun, and Rahjim wants to kiss him again. Shiro has to push him off and remind him that he has a meeting to get to.

Shiro washes his cocktail glass while Rahjim heads upstairs to change. Shiro does have time to himself now, but he ends up following Rahjim upstairs to see if he can help with anything. Rahjim’s quickly scrubbing at his face in the bathroom— and is shocked that he’s been so filthy and Shiro didn’t _tell_ him!— and in a bought of forwardness Shiro picks put a rich purple robe, embroidered with golds and a variety of other colors, that Rahjim might want to wear. He’s got a lot of jewelry in his wardrobe selection as well. Shiro pauses a moment to admire it. All golds, various gems set in rings or bangles or brooches. Everything is so shiny and so excessive. Shiro’s never had jewelry like this in his life. He has his rings from graduation or his dog tags. For formal, non-Garrison events he had a nice watch. Everything Rahjim owns puts that to shame.

“I don’t even have time to fix my hair,” Rahjim complains as he comes out of the bathroom. He’s put his hair into a ponytail, rather than the tight bun he had it in for working, and Shiro’s not surprised that he’s put on a bit of makeup as well.

“You’re gorgeous,” Shiro says, and holds out the robe.

Rahjim preens at the compliment, and accepts the clothing, “I love this one! You picked well,” he says. Shiro’s stomach feels warm at the praise. He hops up to sit on the edge of the bed while Rahjim changes.

“Can I get you water? Or anything to snack on?” Shiro asks.

Rahjim shakes his head, “I’m fine. Thank you.”

Rahjim gets his hands on a tablet and starts flipping through information. Shiro recognizes it as the time he’s about to lose Rahjim back to his work. It’s only for a short time, but Shiro can feel the loss like a physical ache.

Rahjim pauses in his reading, “Shiro?”

Shiro sits upright, back straightening. He’d been about to wallow. He needs to be more aware of his mental state, especially with how easiy Rahjim can read him.

“I’m fine,” Shiro insists, “just thinking.”

Rahjim furrows his brow, “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Shiro waves him off, “I’m excited for when you’re done.”

“I’ll make us dinner,” Rahjim promises.

“It’s a little early,” Shiro reminds him.

“Well we have plans for the evening,” Rahjim winks. Shiro smiles back.

“I’ll be in the office, next door,” Rahjim says, and points to the room connected to the bedroom, “you don’t have to wait for me— go sunbathe or snack or have a nap if you need more rest.”

“I’ll keep the noise down,” Shiro promises.

Rahjim nods in thanks, “You can use the patio if you need it. The screens will be just like my personal line— they won’t be able to see you walking back and forth, just facing me.”

“Okay,” Shiro says.

Rahjim steps across the room to lean down and kiss Shiro one more time. Shiro almost falls flat on his back, and wishes that Rahjim could climb up on top of him. They kiss a moment longer, and then Rahjim’s stepping back.

“I have to go,” he apologizes. His hands trail down Shiro’s body, running down his thighs as a last lingering touch.

“Bye,” Shiro whispers into the space between them.

Rahjim smiles fondly at him, and backs out of the room.

 

* * *

 

A few seconds pass, as Shiro hears Rahjim opening the line and beginning his meeting. Shiro’s still sprawled on the bed, naked, with his robe open around him. He said goodbye like he wasn’t going to see Rahjim again, when Rahjim is just busy with work for an hour.

Shiro groans and slides his hands down his face. He’s so dramatic.

Now he’s got time to himself and he… he’s not sure what he wants to do.

Once Rahjim is done they’ll probably get into their bet. So Shiro has time to plan his method of attack. He’s got to make Rahjim want him so badly that Rahjim won’t be able to resist him.

Shiro almost laughs, because, when he puts it like that he’s practically got their bet won already. Except Rahjim is almost as competitive as he is, so he’ll try and win.

The last time they were together— that night they had sex all over Rahjim’s ship— it had been impossible to get Rahjim off of him. What had Shiro done to make that happen?

Well, the close quarters helped. Shiro smiles to himself as he recalls sitting in the cockpit, shaking with every movement of Rahjim’s fingers inside of him. Rahjim had wanted to do that to him all night.

That arousal that had started showing up earlier comes back, and Shiro can feel the heat traveling from his gut to his groin. He swallows and tries to will it away. It won’t do him any good to get worked up now! He’ll never last through the bet if he goes in horny.

Shiro rolls over, sprawling out on his stomach and trying to ignore his cock. Even though he and Rahjim hadn’t slept much, they’d spent a lot of times messing up the bunks in the ship. It had been so hard to tell where he ended and Rahjim started.

He can still remember Rahjim spinning the story, whispering in Shiro’s ear as he described a dark room, filled with people all there to watch Rahjim take Shiro apart. And then have their turn. Shiro’s dressed in gold, with Rahjim having painted his cheekbones with glitter and when the Prince tells Shiro he’s the most handsome person in the room, Shiro believes it. The Prince is deft and dominating with his tongues and his cock, and easily has Shiro orgasming to the crowds delight. And then he stays there, holding Shiro’s hand, as strangers come to touch and kiss and bite and fuck Shiro long into the night.

Shiro’s dreamed about it more than he’ll ever admit. He brings up his left hand and bites at the knuckle. He needs to stop thinking about it. If he spends the while time until Rahjim’s done just tormenting himself like this, he’s going to come the instant Rahjim smiles at him. It’ll be almost as embarrassing as when he came right when Rahjim called him his whore their first night here.

Shiro groans and buries his face in the sheets. How is he going to beat Rahjim like—

Wait.

Shiro sits up and glances at the open door that leads to the office space. He can hear Rahjim talking, and the voices of the others on the line. Rahjim is probably completely focused, trying to get his work done even though he would prefer to be doing anything else.

Shiro knows from experience that Rahjim’s mostly just babysitting, and giving the final say on different approaches to handle problems. It’s time-consuming, but not entirely important work. At the very least, Rahjim won’t suspect a thing.

Shiro’s going to win this bet before it even starts.

 

* * *

 

“We did discuss your changes to the bill,” Rahjim says sternly, “and I told you I would not confirm anything until I returned.”

He doesn’t glance up when Shiro creeps into the room. He’s stepping carefully, to make sure he doesn’t make any noise, or trip over Rahjim’s long robe that he’s put on. It hangs over his fingers and completely covers his legs.

There’s a chair in the corner of the room. Rounded back, a slight bowl shape that makes it perfect for lounging in. Rahjim owns nothing that’s purely functional, everything is luxurious. Shiro almost laughs. He takes a seat and settles in with the book he’d brought with him. He’s not really reading, and turns the pages idly while he listens.

The talk sounds exactly like Shiro had thought it would be. The Ambassadors just want Rahjim’s attention because they can’t think for themselves, or are too impatient to wait a few more days. Shiro and Allura have been dealing with a lot of the same in the Coalition.

Shiro’s only listening in to make sure that the meeting isn’t _actually_ important. Now that he’s confirmed his guess, he drops the book.

That happens to catch Rahjim’s attention, and Shiro sees the Prince’s eyes glance to him through the semi-transparent projections in front of him. He smiles briefly, and then has to look away.

Shiro stands up and pulls the chair to the middle of the room. Rahjim’s watching the Ambassadors again, but Shiro knows his curiosity is piqued. Shiro takes a deep breath and starts untying the sash of the robe. He pointedly glaces at the projections of the Ambassadors, asking for confirmation. Rahjim’s fights off a grin, but he gives a shallow nod to confirm that Shiro can’t be seen.

“—but Prince Rahjim, you must agree that—”

“I do agree but I’ve _told_ you. Your legislation would lead to a riot and I can’t—” Shiro drops the robe so it pools around his feet and Rahjim stops speaking.

It’s Shiro’s turn to fight off a grin, and he has to bite his lower lip to keep from making a sound. He trails his hands down all of the chains and gems of Rahjim’s necklaces around his neck, onto his chest, and feels the weight of all of the rings on his fingers.

“Your Highness?” the Ambassador asks, worriedly.

Rahjim blinks back into awareness, “Y—yes, sorry. I— your ideas. I can’t approve of them without big revisions.”

Shiro turns slowly, so Rahjim can see the swing of the danging threads of gold at his waist, the glittery arm band on his bicep, the anklets that are almost too big for him. By the time he faces Rahjim again, Shiro has nothing but a cheshire grin and Rahjim’s turned in his chair so he can look at Shiro through the two Ambassadors.

Shiro winks at Rahjim and brings his left hand up through all of the jewelry on his body, disturbing the chains and gems enough to make only the faintest sounds that the Ambassador’s mics won’t be able to hear, but Rahjim will be all too aware of. He carefully avoids touching his cock, and moves up his stomach to come to his chest and circle his nipple with soft fingers. Shiro has a well of memories of Rahjim pinching, toying with and biting at him here. He falls back on those, stops himself from letting out any noise, and projects his feelings at Rahjim.

He can see it too, as Rahjim picks up on him. Shiro pinches, lets his eyes flutter shut for a moment as he rides out the nearly-painful experience, and then opens them to see Rahjim clenching his jaw in an effort to not respond.

Shiro sits down slowly, making sure not to make a sound, and sinks back into the chair. He spreads his legs, and can nearly see Rahjim’s eyes get wider.

Shiro sucks on each finger of his left hand individually, taking them all the way to the knuckle and drawing them out slowly. He makes sure they’re wet before he reaches down to start touching his cock where it’s resting nicely on display.

Rahjim continues to stutter through talks. He’s putting up a good front of acting like he’s not compromised, but he’s not fooling Shiro.

Shiro has to bite his lip to stop himself from moaning as he starts jerking himself off. He’s going slow, to be sure there’s no sound, but the tight slide of his fingers feels fantastic.

He starts thinking about Rahjim touching him. About all the times and all the ways Rahjim _has_ touched him. How he loves having Rahjim’s hands on him, tight fists for him to fuck into. Strong fingers digging into his hips, leaving bruises in his skin. How much he loves Rahjim’s mouth on him here, hot and wet and skilled— and his second tongue! The sensations that make Shiro’s knees shake when he thinks about it alone in the showers.

Shiro pushes all of these thoughts at Rahjim, so that Rahjim can feel just how hot Shiro is for him, and how much Shiro loves him.

Shiro teases at the skin of his inner thighs with his right hand. The metal isn’t cold, but his fingertips are cooler than his natural body temperature and make him shiver as he rolls his testicles in his fingers, trails up to tease at his nipples again. Shiro licks his lips, and his smile is all teeth when he sees Rahjim staring openly.

He drags his thumb over the tip of his cock and sighs— nearly too loud— at the rush of pleasure that brings. The base of his spine feels tight, like it’s coiled with electricity. Shiro grabs a fistful of necklaces in his right hand as he continues to tease himself with the other.

Rahjim said he liked the sensation of Shiro’s joy and pleasure, that it was nearly addictive to him. Shiro thinks to how excited he was in the days leading up to joining Rahjim on vacation. How happy he’s been waking up next to him. To just this morning, dancing in the kitchen and how Shiro never wanted that to end. Shiro starts to feel full again, like he might burst if he doesn’t tell Rahjim that he loves him. He doesn’t take his eyes off the Prince as he sinks into the joys of his emotions.

Rahjim can’t seem to sit still, and keeps shifting and fidgeting in his seat. He’s pointedly _not_ looking at Shiro anymore. He’s reduced himself to one-worded answers to the Ambassadors. Two of his hands are clasped tightly together on the desk. Shiro can’t see his other two arms.

Shiro pulls his hand off of his cock. He’s mostly hard, and now his dick feels cool as it bobs freely in his lap. It’s slick with spit and starting to spill some precome. Shiro reaches down to circle his index finger around the tip, and then brings it up to his mouth to suck on it.

Rahjim sucks in a loud breath, and his shoulders get tight. Shiro wonders how much longer Rahjim will be able to hold out for.

With his right hand, Shiro finally releases his nipple. It’s sore, and aches even without the attention like a reminder of how much fun he’s having. He uses his right hand to help pull one knee up and hold it, so Shiro can lean back and expose himself. It means Rahjim has a great view as Shiro reaches down with his spit-slick left hand, and pushes the tip of his finger inside of himself. It’s the hardest thing he’s ever done not to moan.

Rahjim almost topples his chair over as he bolts upright.

“I believe this concludes our meeting,” he says, interrupting one of the Ambassadors speaking.

“B—but your Highness—”

“I’ve given you enough time to move forwards. I will speak to you when I return. Goodbye.”

Rahjim ends the call before he’s even done speaking.  The holograms disappear as the line is disconnected.

Shiro starts thrusting his finger, shallowly, and moans at the stretch. It sounds so loud in the silence.

“You!” Rahjim shouts, and he’s leaping to his feet, “you horrid, tantalizing, devious—”

He’s saying more, but he nearly leaps his desk in one motion to scoop Shiro into his arms just as much as he climbs on top of him. Right in the chair. Shiro wraps his legs around Rahjim’s waist to bring him in as Rahjim bites down on Shiro’s throat with something similar to a growl to end his sentence. Shiro’s arm is pinned between them, so Shiro’s still fingering himself. He uses his right hand to grab a handful of Rahjim’s robe.

Shiro’s gasps at the bite, and starts laughing with heady delight as Rahjim lifts him right up. The chair can’t handle their unbalanced scrambling, and Rahjim’s kissing him even as they fall out onto the carpet.

Rahjim cradles his head, and uses his other hands to keep Shiro pinned. Shiro feels one of Rahjim’s hands down between his legs, feeling where Shiro’s pulling his finger out of himself.

“Don’t stop,” Rahjim begs.

“You lost the bet,” Shiro declares proudly.

“Fuck the bet,” Rahjim growls, “I’m not staying away when you’re radiant like this.”

Rahjim’s fingers are slick against him, and Shiro realizes that he’d been touching himself through the meeting as well. Shiro’s hit with a wave of arousal, that he can _do that_ to someone else, so hard that his whole body shakes. Rahjim presses a finger against him, and Shiro’s moaning out a ‘yes, yes’ even before Rahjim’s asked. Rahjim’s finger stretches him open, and Rahjim doesn’t even hesitate before he’s curling his finger inside of Shiro looking for that right spot and—

Shiro shouts when Rahjim finds his prostate, and Rahjim hones in on it.

“What were you thinking of?” Rahjim asks. He’s kissing Shiro’s face, biting at his jawline. He can’t seem to decide what he wants to do, “what made you so happy?”

“You,” Shiro says, too strung out between the pleasure arching his back to even have a filter, “being yours.”

Rahjim adds another finger and Shiro nearly feels like he’s been electrocuted. He can feel Rahjim’s wet cock against his thigh, already unsheathed and leaving trails of slime on Shiro’s skin.

“I— I could have gone down on you, under the desk,” Shiro stammers, and he’s cut off when he yells as Rahjim pinches his sore nipple.

“Would you do that? Take my cock down your throat like you’re my toy?” Rahjim asks. He bites at the shell of Shiro’s ear.

“I’d be— I’d be on my knees for you any— anytime,” Shiro pants. He has both hands fisted in Rahjim’s robe, trying to keep himself grounded as Rahjim makes him see stars with every forceful stroke of his prostate.

Rahjim’s almost speechless again, and takes hold of several of the necklaces Shiro’s wearing, and uses them like a leash to pull Shiro up closer to kiss him. He kisses like he’s claiming, and Rahjim’s never kissed him like this before.

“What changed?” Rahjim whispers, “was it the alcohol? The sleep? The gloves? What made you so open?”

Shiro barely remembers asking earlier this afternoon for Rahjim to wear the working gloves for fooling around. It feels like it was ages ago.

“Tell me so I can do it again,” Rahjim pleads, “I want you like this every day. I want to keep you like this forever.”

Shiro’s whole body feels taut like he’s ready to explode. He’d be thrashing if Rahjim weren’t holding him so tightly.

“You’re _glorious_ ,” Rahjim says. Shiro remembers when he’d called him that during their first time together. When Shiro had promised to try and be more open. How Rahjim had seen Shiro at his worst, and thought he was still good.

Shiro kisses Rahjim as he comes over the both of them. It’s only the first of Shiro’s orgasms that night.

They don’t make it to the bed, but after Rahjim sweeps everything off of his desk, they don’t need to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me, writing this: is this ooc?  
> Also me: who cares it's hot
> 
> Welcome to the party Vacation Shiro! Turns out you're a horny minx when you feel safe and in love <33


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